


A Re-Telling of Roxanne

by PaleoM



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Films, M/M, roxanne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:35:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleoM/pseuds/PaleoM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rewriting Romantic Comedies for challenge.  I picked Roxanne as it remains one of my all time favourites.  I chose to write it as a McShep as I have become a little obsessed with the romance of this pairing.  I kept true to the story on many aspects, and kept the things that I remember the most.  So here goes.  Roxanne, rewritten as McShep with aspects of Atlantis hidden amongst the original script.  I just couldn’t imagine John with a huge nose though so there are some changes, which in turn made some other changes but overall  I hope you enjoy......</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2011 in response to a challenge raised over at DreamWidth: http://romcomorama.dreamwidth.org/ Rewriting Romantic Comedies with pairings from across the board, all shows, all characters. This is McShep Roxanne, with some changes. Hope you enjoy.....

  
  


 

John Sheppard walked out of his house on the outskirts of town with a spring in his step, closing the door behind him before trotting down the steps and across the lawn to the sidewalk.  It was early evening, still light, but the stars were beginning to appear in the sky overhead.  He was feeling really good, so good in fact that he hummed to himself as he bounded down the steps and across his short front lawn to the street. 

John walked along, swinging his racquet as he sung _Ring of Fire_ just under his breath.  He liked it here.  The people were a nice mix of friendly and stark raving mad.  He’d found his place amongst the locals and they knew him enough to ignore the scar that ran up the side of his neck.

The tune he’d been humming petered out as he spotted the two men walking down the street towards him, skis over their shoulders, so probably here on vacation.  He didn’t like the tourists here so much.  Mostly they just looked and didn’t say anything, kept to themselves, but every now and again he had trouble but he was feeling so relaxed today that he’d been optimistic there wouldn’t be any problems.

“Get off the sidewalk!” the man on the right shouted, out of the blue and without any provocation, with a wave of his hand. 

John wasn’t sure if he’d been drinking or if he was just naturally a bully but then the man’s friend added, “Other side of the street, scum,” and quite frankly, John just didn’t care anymore.  He halted, his body tensed in forced restraint while he assessed the situation.

“Shit, it’s a cop,” the first one hissed loudly as he placed a restraining hand on his friend.

His friend peered at John’s black bdu’s and blue shirt and then straightened with a frown, “If he’s a cop, where’s his gun?”

“He’s a fireman,” the first man howled in glee when he had worked it out and then continued with his earlier bullying, “cut a wide path, pussy.”

John decided he didn’t want any trouble, just wanted to get back to feeling good and relaxed like he had two minutes ago. “All right,” he said easily as he diverted to the side and walked along the grass verge, giving them plenty of room to pass.

“Thank-you, ass wipe,” the first man, obviously the main trouble maker, sneered with utter smugness.

As they walked past they looked at him with bright eyes of victory that he ignored, till the first man grabbed his companion and started, “Christ, look at...”

John stopped dead as that familiar surge of anger crawled up his insides like a caged animal again.  The urge to shout that he had just been trying to do the right thing, that this deformity is what he'd got along with the death of two very good friends.  The urge to shout it wasn’t fair.  He brought up the racquet sharply, level with the guys face, “Don’t... do not say it...” he warned, voice cold and heavy with the anger he felt inside.  He lowered the racquet before he continued walking and hoped that was it.

“Bit early for Halloween, aren’t ya pal?” the guy sneered.  His companion lent into his shoulder to muffle his own laughter.

John sighed, even as a small part of him sparked in reaction to the adrenaline that rushed his system.  He turned and spoke brightly, a smile on his face, “I really like your shoes.”

“What?” the guy barked, clearly confused and thrown by this random comment.  He looked at his companion to see if he knew but when his friend just shook his head with a matching frown, they both looked back to John.

“I was just thinking,” John continued with his voice deceptively light and cheery, belying the struggle as he battled to cage the anger, and anyone who knew him would be running by now.  “As much as I admire them and would love to have a pair just like them, I wouldn’t want to be _in_ your shoes right now.”

“Like I’m scared of you,” the guy sneered.  He dropped the skis from his shoulder and approached John with a raised fist, as his friend followed suit.  He pulled it back, ready to throw a punch.

John raised the racquet level with the guy’s nose and jerked it forward with force and pulled it back again, all in the blink of an eye.  He didn’t trust himself to use his hands, lest he forgot himself.  The guy yelped, before he backed up, hands holding his nose, where the racquet had hit it, glaring at John while he carefully took his hand away from his nose, checking his fingers for blood, before he grabbed one of his ski poles from the floor and lunged at John who simply ducked under it. 

The guy turned and John managed to block the second attack with his racquet and then pushed him back onto his friend and, with neither expecting it, they both went down.   John walked away from them, removing the racquet cover and then turned to face them as he twirled the racquet in his hand, loving the sound of the wind whipping through it at that speed. The first guy stumbled to his feet but he brought his ski pole up gamely.

“Get pissed, Rich,” the other guy shouted as he glared at John, who didn’t even acknowledge them, studying his racquet instead.

“I am pissed,” spat out ‘Rich’, and simply charged at John, but he stumbled all over the place and his aim was way off, the pole already slanted down as he stumbled forward so John simply stepped to the side and when the ski pole hit the floor, Rich was in a beautiful position as John brought his racquet back and swung hard to hit Rich under the chin, the force of the blow sent him backwards on to the grass verge.

“Fifteen – Love,” John exclaimed, still deceptively cheery.  He dreaded these encounters and yet some part of him revelled in the release they gave him.  The need to lash out, to fight back against something, for what was done to him that day, but with no one to blame except himself, it left only opportunities like this to bleed a little of the anger away and they had become almost cathartic to him.  What worried him most was that maybe a small part of him looked forward to these, hunted out opportunities like these on a subconscious level.

“You want trouble, you’ll get it,” the other guy growled as he got up, stumbling and panting.  “Okay, okay, you wanna try that on someone else,” he panted.  John just did a few practise swings with the racquet and smirked darkly.  The guy approached and they duelled like they had swords instead of a ski pole and a tennis racquet, but the guy was getting nowhere fast so he lunged at John instead, who used the face of the racquet to block the ski pole and pushed the guy away.

“Fault,” John said easily, already relaxing as he started to feel the familiar looseness in his muscles.  He heard Rich moving behind him and cast a glance down but Rich wasn’t going anywhere soon.  The other guy was approaching again, John leant forward, “Ella,” he said gleefully as he brought the racquet under the guys chin with a sharp crack.

The guy was definitely pissed now but still stumbled about.  John wondered if he was getting enough oxygen because he was panting like a dog after a run but the guy growled, “Okay, that’s the way you wanna play?” John decided that if the guy managed to speak he couldn’t be that badly off.

“You broke my nose,” Rich exclaimed, still on the floor, his once white shirt covered in blood and grass stains.

John ignored him in favour of his friend who had charged towards him.  John flicked the pole away with his racquet as he side stepped the charge and hit the guy’s rear as he passed.  He only allowed himself little attacks so he could maintain control of his emotions.  He nearly let the anger out once, shortly after it happened, nearly let his emotions control him and he swore he wouldn’t do that again.  He couldn’t trust himself like that again so now he kept each encounter small, attack and retreat, attack and retreat.  The guy repeated the move, so John did the same too with an added, “ole”.

The guy turned, grabbed John and pulled him close, trying to wrestle him to the ground, “Had enough, yet?” the guy panted out.

John couldn’t help bark a laugh at his optimism, just before he head butted him.  “Thirty-Love,” he exclaimed as the guy stumbled back.  Practising his swing again, he inadvertently hit Rich in the face, who had just stumbled to his knees behind him, and he went down again.  “Surprise,” John exclaimed, actually beginning to enjoy himself, “forty-love.”

“Are we having fun yet?” he asked as he leaped onto the sawn off tree trunk at the bottom of Mr. Hardackers yard.  The second guy stumbled to his feet again and swiped at John’s legs with the ski pole he still held, but John deflected it easily. The guy kept swiping at John but eventually he got too low for John to deflect so he started to jump over it, until he managed to land on top of it, effectively pinning the pole in the place and holding the guy captive while he tried to pull the pole out from under John’s feet.

John tapped him on the head a few times but the guy was still trying.  “Service,” John warned as he pulled back and executed an uppercut service swing at the guys chin.  The guy fell back, out cold, “Game,” John declared happily.

“Let’s play again some time,” he jeered as he bounded off the trunk, stooped to pick up the racquet cover and continued on his way, pleased that he had managed to keep his good mood.  The two men were left rolling on the floor, groans replacing any derogatory words they might have said, not that they had the energy for anymore.

He made it into town in a matter of minutes, at this time of night there weren’t a lot of people about but he stopped humming all the same, more self-conscious here.  He walked into Teyla’s bar, and found her sitting at the end of the bar doing the books.  Ronon, a mountain of a man with dreadlocks, was setting up the bar for the evening customers.  The bar stretched away, curving back into the wall with a large area for tables and chairs, used for the restaurant side of the business.  Behind Teyla was the more traditional bar side of the business.  This side housed the dart board, pool table, big screen and a jukebox for when they didn’t have live entertainment.  Table and chairs filled this area too, with a wide walk way through the middle that lead from the front door to the bar where Teyla now sat.

She could keep an eye on the entire premises from there, she had a sixth sense when it came to trouble and normally nipped it in the bud and Ronon was always eager to help out.  John didn’t know the guys history but he had a lot of anger in him, always moving, never still.  John slipped onto the stool next to Teyla, earning a smile from her and a cursory glance from Ronon.  He was one of the few people who were allowed to sit next to Teyla without a third degree interrogation from Ronon that was made purely of glares.

“Here’s your racquet,” he announced, handing it over.

“Thank you,” she frowned at the apex of the racquet, “What’s this stuff on it?”

“Blood.  Where’s my coffee?”

She nodded to Ronon, who was in the midst of pouring him a cup.  “You going to tell me about it?”

He patted her on the head, “You’re too young,” he added in a very condescending way, before he broke into a smirk.  John reached for the coffee that Ronon handed him, bringing it to his lips and taking a sip, followed by a loud lip smacking appreciation of the beautiful taste.

Teyla shook her head.  “You’re the one who has the impetuousness of youth, John.”

John glanced at her before smiling wide, “Pass the paper, won’t ya?”

She smiled serenely at him, “Very well,” she conceded as she handed him the paper.

They sat in comfortable silence, occasionally discussing a news article, and it had felt nice as it always did.  Eventually, it was time to go, so he had said his goodbyes and walked across town to the fire station.  He had done his shift, but as fire chief, he liked to nip back and check on the night shift for his own piece of mind.

He saw smoke drifting out of the fire station as he approached and started running, shouting as he went, “Guys, Guys!”

He slowed to a stroll when he realised the pile of oily rags burning slowly in the corner were contained, the heart that had been thumping in his chest already starting to slow down to an even beat, the adrenaline starting to disperse.  The crew had heard his call though and came emptying out the kitchen door at the rear and down the stairs from the play room on the first floor.  “God damn it, guys, we’re supposed to put them _out!”_

“I have a dream,” he whined as he ambled over to the fire extinguisher on the wall.  John pulled it off the wall bracket and prepped it for use, “Just a little dream,” he continued as he walked across the station to the pile of rags on the floor and registered that that some of them were only just then noticing the fire.  The entire crew were stood in a tight bunch as they watched his every move, the way a caged rabbit would a cat.  “I would like the people in our fair town to feel that if there were, god forbid, a fire, calling the fire department would be a good idea.”

“You can’t have people with a burning house saying, ‘Whatever you do, _don’t_ call the fire brigade...” he sprayed the fire, putting it out in seconds, “that would be bad.  Please get it cleaned up, don’t make me have to explain how the fire station managed to burn down while housing a fire engine and a full man crew.”

He ignored the men as they jumped to follow his orders, going through to the kitchen.  He was pouring himself a coffee when Lorne came through the back door.  His 2IC had only been there a week, together they were training the firemen to be well....firemen.  “You been out on a call?” he asked.

“Yeah, the Chambers kid got his head stuck in the fence again.” 

They both rolled their eyes at each other.  Every town had a kid that was just too dumb to learn.

“Did I miss anything?” Lorne asked as he put down his tool bag and started to pour himself a coffee, casting a glance at the table in the corner where a game of poker had been abandoned.

“Oh, no, just a fire in the fire station, and ten firemen totally oblivious to its existence.”

“What!” Lorne exclaimed, putting down his cup and preparing to go look for himself.

John placed a restraining hand on Lorne’s forearm and nodded towards his coffee.  “It’s okay, I put it out.  The guys are cleaning it up now.  I want to run extreme simulations starting tomorrow.  I was going to work up to it but I don’t think I dare after what I’ve just seen.  Go check on the guys, I’m just going to finish off the paperwork...and take your coffee with you, you may need it.” John added as he clapped Lorne on the shoulder.  Lorne huffed out a laugh and picked up his coffee as Sheppard left the kitchen.

 

Cont/d.....


	2. Chapter 2

  
  


John went upstairs to his office, trying to blot out the fact that ten men were still cleaning up one mess.  He finished off his paperwork in a matter of minutes but then got sidetracked by planning the training sessions that he wanted to run the next day.  He had a new crew member arriving some time the next day who had years of experience.  John was hoping that he could help him and Lorne whip the guys into shape, preferably before a real fire occurred.  Eventually, he realised the time and decided to call it a night, headed back down to make himself a coffee and have a quick chat with the guys before he left. He hated to leave any bad feeling in the air, and a casual chat normally did the trick to get everything back on the right track.

As he was wandering through the station he saw a reel of hose lying on the floor, but decided not to say anything.  Training would start in earnest tomorrow and hopefully this would be the last time he had to check up on his team.  Sheppard tucked the hose into the appropriate cupboard and looked around the fire station, what he could see of it with their one and only fire engine sat gleaming in the middle.  Satisfied that the hose was the last of the apparatus they had been using that day to be stowed, he wandered through to the back of the station, to the kitchen area where most of the shift were sat playing cards round a large table.  The remainder were upstairs shooting pool.

The guys hollered out to him as he entered to come join the game, “Come on, Chief,” pleaded Lorne, “Markham’s killing me here.”

John smiled widely, Markham was a tall gangly lad with an easy smile, who looked younger than his years and who had an uncanny knack with cards.  If his nature wasn’t so benign, you’d call him a card shark, if that wasn’t tantamount to calling a nun a hussy.  The guy didn’t have a sly bone in his body.

“You should know better by now, Lorne,” John answered as he crossed the kitchen area to the urn of hot water, and proceeded to make himself a coffee.

“Yeah, you really should,” chipped in Bates.

“So wise,” Lorne said as he turned to him with a raised eyebrow, “and yet it’s your dime sitting next to mine in that pot,” he said, indicating the small pile of coins in the middle of the table.

“I was trying a pincer movement,” Bates grumbled.

The men’s answering laughter nearly covered the knock at the back door, and probably would have if John had been any further away.  He glanced at the door, waiting for someone to enter, when no one did, he put down his coffee and went to investigate.  The door was at the rear of the station not used much, leading onto the porch.  He stepped out into the glorious summer night, just in time to see a naked man turning sharply and trot back into the firs that bordered the side of the fire station.  He presumed this was an abortive attempt to repeat the knock, no longer needed at his sudden appearance.

His eyes fell from broad shoulders to the full globes of the man’s perfect ass as it disappeared into the firs.  Intrigued, and if he was honest with himself, already a little obsessed with how the paleness of the man’s skin appeared to glow in the moonlight.  He pulled the door shut behind him, not wanting to share this with the rest of the crew just yet.

He smirked wide, unable to stop himself, “You changed your mind, Sir?” he asked in his most cordial voice.

“What?” came a sharp disembodied voice from behind the firs.

“Well, you were leaving, so I presumed you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I haven’t changed my mind,” the words bitten out in anger and that just made John grin all the wider.  “I’m locked out of my house,” the voice continued, “don’t you guys help with that sort of thing?”

“You live here?” John asked, not recognising the voice or that glorious rear.

“I’m renting a place in town, look can we move this along?  It’s getting kinda cold out here.”

“Really, I think it’s a beautiful night tonight,” he answered with a glance upwards, looking over the stars before returning his gaze to the talking firs.  “Wouldn’t it just be easier to get the landlord to let you in?” John enquired innocently, enjoying himself way too much.

“I’m not exactly dressed appropriately to go all over town looking for her,” the voice answered, with an intriguing mix of anger and embarrassment in equal measures.  John nearly laughed out loud at that response.

“Oh, okay.  Well if you want to come and wait inside while I get my housebreaking tools,” Sheppard said, pretending to turn back towards the door, knowing full well what was coming next.

“No, I’ll just wait out here.  Please hurry.”

“Well, it’s warmer inside, and you did say it was kinda cold out here.”  There was a heavy pause while John stood watching the firs, almost biting his cheek to stop himself from laughing.

“I’m....er...I’m naked,” the voice hissed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that,” John said, wondering if that actually sounded as fake as he felt it did to the guy behind the firs.

There was a heavy sigh, “I’m naked,” the voice said in a tight but audible tone.

“Oh,” is all John said, because that’s all he trusted himself to say and still manage to contain the laughter.

“Look, it’s not like I make a habit of walking the streets naked.  I just came down for a glass of water and realised the cat wasn’t in.  I went out onto the back porch to call her and when I reached down for her the door closed behind me, trapping my robe and locking me out.  I couldn’t get the robe or the door to budge and remembered this station on my way to the house and figured I could make it here without being seen.  I’m not some kind of pervert, just a victim of circumstance and although it’s a nice night out here, it’s actually got a chill factor when you’re naked. So if we could please just get on with this.”  This long rant was followed by a heavy sigh of defeat.

John finally took pity on him, and also figured he had to put a stop to this before he just sat down and laughed outright because the guy just hit his funny bone with everything that came out of his mouth.  “I’ll be back in a minute, let me just get my tools.” 

As John turned and put a hand on the door knob there was a whispered, “thank you,” from the firs, sounding so vulnerable that John felt a jolt of guilt for playing the guy for so long.

He walked back into the kitchen to see the guys had given up on poker for money and moved back to playing for fun.  They looked up at him quizzically when he came back in.  “Just a lock out,” he said as he walked through. 

He picked up his toolbox from the locker near the door.  As he passed back through the room, Lorne spoke up, “You want me to take it?”

As casually as he could he responded, “Nah, you’re okay.  It’s on my way home anyway, I’ll just do this job and then call it a night.  See you guys tomorrow.”

They all hailed good night to him as he left, stepping once more into the summer night.  He walked up to the firs but didn’t go through, that last vulnerable word keeping him in check.  He figured he had already had enough fun at the guy’s expense, even though he could imagine the squeak of surprise if he did.  “Where to?” he asked.

“Turn to your left and follow the firs to the end, and then to the right.  Just follow the firs.  You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine.”

“Okay,” he turned to his left and started walking.  He could hear the other guy walking through the brush on the other side. “Hey, your feet okay?”

“No, I’ve probably got a thousand splinters that are going to get infected and fester,” the voice sighed resigndley.

“We’ll have a look at them once we get you back inside,” John answered sympathetically.

There was silence from the other side of the firs, and as crazy as it sounds, John could swear it was a shocked surprise kind of silence.

“Erm...”

Sheppard cast a frown to the other side of the firs when nothing else followed.  _Had he said something wrong?_   He backtracked.  Maybe the guy thought it was a proposition.  _Was it a proposition?_   He was about to say something when the guy spoke up again.

“Thanks... it’s just most people just ignore me, I wasn’t expecting...”

“What’s your name?” Sheppard interrupted, because the guy just sounded so exposed and defenceless that is was almost painful to listen too, especially when John recalled the game he’d played with him.  _That feeling, yeah, that’d be guilt. Know that one._

“What?”  The voice said, clearly thrown by the sudden change in subject.

“I can’t keep thinking of you as naked guy in my head.  It’s creepy.”

There was an audible smile in the voice when it answered, “Dr. Rodney McKay.”

John nodded, even though Rodney couldn’t see him, securing the name in his mind.  “Hello, Rodney,” he said with a smile.

There was a huff of laughter before Rodney replied.  “Hi... oh... what’s your name?”

“John Sheppard.”

“Oh.  Hello, Sheppard.”

 John frowned at the use of his last name.  Lorne had done that when he first arrived, but that was because he was ex military.  This doctor didn’t strike him as a field medic.  “So, what kind of doctor are you?”

“Physics and astrophysics,” Rodney replied, smugness now infusing his tones.

Sheppard whistled, “Wow, double doctorate, eh?”  _Not a field medic then._   “So, what brings you here?”

“It’s a secret.  Here’s the house.  I’ll be waiting out back.”  John heard him carry on round the side of the house, flashes of pale skin in amongst the bushes.  He made his way round the back too.

“I thought you’d go in the front?” Rodney queried from behind the bushes as John neared his position, still unable to see anything but flecks of luminescent skin.  There was a faint suspicion to his voice.

“Didn’t really want people to see me breaking in here, and figured you wouldn’t want people to know I had to, or for it to come out that you were running all over town naked.”

“Oh.  Good point.”

This was Teyla’s house, small world.  Teyla was like a sister to him but even he couldn’t figure out why she preferred staying over the bar she owned in town when she could stay here.  John suddenly had the thought of Rodney trying to gain access to the bar, while nude, at either the front or the back and it made him pale just thinking about it.   He also realised it was lucky the fire station was so close, and that Rodney had seen it on his way in.  If any of the patrons thought he was after Teyla for anything other than the keys, then Rodney could have got himself in a lot of trouble because everyone in town defended Teyla with a passion, even if she could look after herself.  If Ronon had found him, well it didn’t bear thinking about. 

It was a beautiful house, big light rooms which always made it easy to rent.  He walked up the three steps to the porch and knelt by the kitchen door.  He opened the lid of the toolbox that was empty save for the single credit card sat in the bottom, which had expired long ago, bearing the name of the previous fire chief.  He would have loved for Rodney to see that, he just knew the guy’s response would have made him smile.  He reached in and got out the card and started jimmying the lock but it wasn’t working, probably due to the big fluffy bathrobe stuck in the door.

“This lock doesn’t accept Master Charge.  We will have to try the old reliable,” he said as he backed down the steps, looking up at the walls of the house, working out the path he would take.  “And when I say, ‘old reliable’, I’m lying because I’ve never tried this before.  You may not want to watch this.”

John leapt up and grabbed the iron bar that was positioned above the porch which he thought was just for ornamental use but hoped it held regardless.  He swung his legs forward to give him momentum, using the bar like a gymnastic bar, and managed to swing himself up so he was suspended above the bar, arms locked straight.  He brought his legs up on the bar and managed to find himself standing.  John balanced there for a while as he gauged the jump, and the angle of the sloping roof before he took the leap.  He leant forwards as he leapt as a counterweight to the angle of the roof as he landed and then he was running across the tiles, thankful he wore his sneakers that night.  He reached the balcony of the master bedroom, but the windows and door were closed so he kept on to his initial course, the window in the attic that was open.

He pulled himself up onto the banister that ran around the balcony and walked along until he was level with the attic window.  John judged how sturdy the guttering was and with some mental calculations, figured it will hold his weight.  He fell forward with a small push off the banister, grabbed the guttering and pulled himself up and over then it was a quick run across the tiles and a quick dive into the open window before he lost his footing.  He caught something on his way through, something that made a hell of a racket when it fell over but he remained unhurt.  He managed to locate the door and headed down to the master bedroom.

He pulled a throw off the bed just as he heard a faint, “Hey, where’d you go?” drift up from outside. 

He went to the window and threw the blanket down, aiming for the flecks of pale skin shining through the dappled green of the bushes, “Figured you’d want something to cover your modesty.”

“Oh, thanks,” he heard as the blanket was dragged through the bushes, the pale flecks disappearing as Rodney drew the blanket around him. 

He went to the bathroom next, picking through the cabinet until he found the antiseptic cream.  He went back down stairs and opened up the back door, to find Rodney bouncing on his feet with the blanket wrapped round him, “You get lost?” Rodney grumbled as he walked in, shivering, even with the blanket wrapped around him.  “I’m going to put some clothes on,” he said as he walked through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Bring socks down with you but don’t put them on just yet.” John called after him, as he shut the back door.

The footsteps on the stairs paused, and then carried on without a word.  John put the kettle on and prepared the percolator. He filled the sink with hot water and found a new, clean cloth.  He quickly arranged a platter of snack foods from the fridge, placing it on the central kitchen top, opposite the sink.  He was interrupted while filling the percolator with hot water.

“This is quite the after service.”

He glanced over to get his first glance of Dr Rodney McKay.  You’d think the bright orange fleece would have taken all his attention but it was passed over, in favour of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen, alight with a bright intelligence.  “We’ve got a special promotion on this month,” he replied easily, belying the hammering heart in his chest or the butterflies in his stomach.  “Come sit up here,” he said as he patted the counter top, “let’s get a look at those feet.”

He busied himself with the percolator, to avoid staring, and to get himself under control, whilst Rodney hopped up onto the side.  John went to the sink and plunged the cloth into the water, then turned and picked up one of Rodney’s feet and started cleaning it, checking for splinters or abrasions.  John realised Rodney was staring at him, now able to see him fully under the house lights.  He froze.  _How could he have forgotten?_   He hadn’t been _able_ to forget since waking up in that hospital bed after failing to pull Mitch and Dex out of that burning laboratory.  Even when he was alone, John could still feel it. Always there, a patch of coldness, like the hand of death on his shoulder.

They had done what they could with skin grafts, had reduced the scarring measurably, but the scarred skin that was left was still horribly deformed, running along his shoulder where he could hide it beneath clothes, and up his neck where he couldn’t.  He hated it, a reminder of his failure for all to see.

_Scarring would have been bad enough, but oh no, he had to go better didn’t he_.  John had to have an experimental chemical fall on him as he crashed into the lab table, falling to his knees next to Mitch and Dex who were already near death.  All records burnt in the fire, no record of what it contained and no doctor able to tell him why it had stained his skin iridescent blue and green and no way to undo it.  John’s ex had told him it looked pretty and John had packed his bags and left that very day.  It disgusted him in every way, and yet every person that looked at him reminded him it was there, every eye that drifted to his neck shouted it out and made it impossible to forget.  John had got into a lot of fights about it, and everyone in town had learned not to look, but there were always new people coming in who had to learn the hard way, who had to remind him he’d failed and it seemed Rodney was no different.  

“How does your hair do that?” Rodney asked, and just like that all the tension drained away.  He looked up to find Rodney seemingly mesmerized by his hair, eyes following it, the way other people followed his scar.

“It’s natural,” he said, unable to keep the full grin off his face.  No one had ever seen past the scar when they first met, either watching it’s every move but saying nothing, or speaking about it as if it was acceptable, normal.  Sometimes he felt like he was part of the scar instead of the other way round.  He wanted to laugh, he wanted to hold Rodney and thank him for seeing him, but he knew that was ridiculous.  Rodney wouldn’t understand just how special this was, or just how much John appreciated this, that at least one person remembered he was here, underneath, just wanting to be normal.

“Atrocities to physics do not occur naturally, Sheppard.  Humanities hand is always to blame, and in this case I suspect it was coated in copious amounts of hair gel.”

Sheppard gave a bark of laughter as he finished cleaning the foot in his hand, feeling light and happy inside.  He rinsed the cloth and moved to the other foot as he spoke, “I can assure you that the only hair products I use are shampoo and conditioner.”

He felt fingers in his hair, the tips brushing his scalp as he bent to wash the other foot.  He was willing himself not to react to the innocent but deeply affecting caress.  There was a soft, “huh,” and then the fingers left his hair and he saw them wave about dangerously in his peripheral vision as Rodney continued.  “Well, that doesn’t prove anything.  You can get invisible gel nowadays.”

“Invisible gel?” Sheppard inquired, looking up at Rodney with one eyebrow raised and a wide smirk, “You’ll go to extraordinary lengths to convince yourself you’re not wrong, won’t you?”

Rodney glared at him before deflating, “Okay, it _seems_ as though you don’t use hair gel.  It’s just that I’m not used to seeing things that defy gravity so openly.  Do you have a special helmet?”

John’s mind went to the dark but fun side before he remembered he was a fireman, “Well, mine says ‘chief’ on it, but apart from that it’s the same as everyone else’s.”

Rodney’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, belying the teasing tones that he spoke with, “Chief? Wow, now I feel all kinds of special.  Does every new resident get this treatment?”

“Only the naked ones,” Sheppard responded easily.  “Talking of which, I can’t find any splinters or cuts.  Your feet should be fine.  I’ll just put this antiseptic cream on, just to be on the safe side.”  He leant over to get the cream and proceeded to rub it into Rodney’s feet, trying to remain remote from the act.  He hadn’t realised until now how intimate it felt to rub cream into pale, pale skin.  Watching his fingers glide over Rodney’s skin was intoxicating.  He finished as quickly as he could, even though he wanted nothing more than to stand here and take his time. 

When he was done, he slapped Rodney’s feet, making him jump.  “All done, you want to put your socks on now,” he advised as he turned back to the sink, washing his hands before he moved over to the percolator that had now finished processing the coffee.  He poured them a cup each, “Milk, sugar?” he asked, raising the filled cup in question to Rodney who was just finishing putting on his second sock.

“No milk, three sugars.  I’m hypoglycaemic,” Rodney stated defensively, “I have to keep my sugar levels up.”

Sheppard noted the information and piled three sugars into one of the cups, passing it over to Rodney, just after he pushed himself off the side to stand.  Rodney took the cup eagerly and took a sip. 

Sheppard’s eyes went wide, his eyebrows shot up and he tried to bury as much of his face into his cup as he could, humming loudly in his head the first song he could think off, anything to try and distract himself from the sounds that Rodney was making, obscene noises, sexual throaty intoxicating noises.  _God, if he sounds like that just drinking coffee imagine what he sounds lik.....no!  Don’t go there, don’t go there._  He couldn’t distract himself, maybe he could distract Rodney.  A thought popped in his head on how exactly he could distract Rodney but he pushed it away.

“So, what’s the big secret that brings you to our town then?” he asked.

“Hmmm?” Rodney queried, coming back to the real world unwillingly, “Oh, wouldn’t be much of a secret if I told everyone would it?”

“I have secrets,” John responded haughtily, before deflating, “well, I have one good secret, well, actually it’s not that good, well actually I don’t have any secrets.”  He grinned wide, before he placed a hand to his heart, “I’m the fire chief.  Surely you can trust me,” Sheppard said, as he used his best ‘who me?’ expression.

Rodney cocked his head to one side, studying Sheppard and suddenly he felt hot, the intense look in Rodney’s eyes as he studied him, making it seem like he could see into his very heart, his eyes suddenly like lasers.  John always thought he would find that uncomfortable to be under that level of scrutiny, he never knew until this moment how turned on he was by that, how hot it was to be the centre of Rodney’s world.

Suddenly Rodney grinned, putting down his coffee cup and rushed into the other room.   John was left floundering.  When Rodney smiled..... _God, he had it bad._   John always kept a distance, even before the accident he was never one to fall easily and yet here he was nearly swooning like a fangirl over a man he’d known all of one hour, just because he smiled.  It scared him a lot, but at the same time he felt alive like he hadn’t experienced in a long time.  Rodney was dangerous, Rodney was addictive and he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

Rodney walked back into the room, carrying a folder, totally oblivious to the spin he had put John in.  He put it on the table and began to open it and then closed it again sharply, looking intently at Sheppard.  “You’re sworn to secrecy though.  You can’t tell another soul, okay?”

“Yeah, course.  Not another soul,” John made a cross sign over his heart.

“What are you, twelve?  I’m not gonna make you pinky swear.  But I will say that if you tell another soul, I’ll track you down and kill you seven ways till Sunday.  I don’t make idle threats.  I made a nuclear bomb for my school science fair and I’ve gotten a lot smarter since then.” 

Rodney reached over and grabbed John by the upper arm, dragging him over to the centre island in the kitchen.  He opened up the folder and spread out photographs.  They were of the night sky, stars and clusters burning brightly, beautiful, clear shots of the universe.  There were doodles all over the photographs, arrows pointing to a specific section over and over again.  “You’re here to look at the stars?” Sheppard asked, not sure what he was expecting, but definitely not that.

“Not a star as such.  A comet.  It’s due to travel overhead in a months time.  If I’m right, and I invariably am, this comet hasn’t been seen in our skies in over one thousand years.”

Sheppard was grinning more at Rodney than by being let into the big secret, not that he thought it was that big a secret anyway.  Rodney though, was like a kid, bouncing with excitement and John found it intoxicating.  He couldn’t help but get dragged along with him, like a hurricane, pulled into the excitement that Rodney was projecting in waves.

“So, what then?”

“Ah, one secret at a time,” said Rodney, and Sheppard knew he wasn’t going to tell him tonight.

They sat up going over the star charts, Rodney explained where he was from, how he had discovered it, about his colleagues.  The only one earning any respect was one called Radek Zelenka, and when John realised he was feeling jealous of a guy he had never met, he realised it was time to go.

“Well, I’d best be going, got to get my beauty sleep and all.  Maybe I’ll see you around town tomorrow.  If you want a good breakfast, I can suggest Liz’s Diner, best in town.”

“Oh, okay then.  I guess it is getting kind of late.  Yeah, maybe I’ll see you around tomorrow.”  Rodney walked him to the front door and Sheppard left without even shaking his hand, not trusting himself not to just lunge at the guy and steal a kiss, well received or not.

He made his way home, the streets quiet now except for the sounds of the crickets.  The sky overhead clear and bright with a million stars.  He got home and went straight to bed.  Lying there, looking at the ceiling, wondering how a stranger had gotten under his skin so deep he didn’t think he’d ever get him out. 

He knew it was dangerous but he couldn’t stop himself from fantasising, from thinking what if.   What if a man with blue eyes, a perfect ass, wide shoulders and a personality full of contradictions, both egotistical and vulnerable, wanted him too?  John fell asleep with butterflies in his stomach, falling into dreams that made him smile.


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Cadman, the only female fire fighter on the team, collected the new starter, Cameron Mitchell, from the bus station.  She looked him up and down, always obvious in her appreciation of the male form.  “Hey, I’m Cadman,” she said as she held out her right hand.  “You single?”

Mitchell looked a bit taken back, but smiled with a cute blush to his cheeks.  He pushed his bag higher on his shoulder before shaking her hand, “Yeah, but I like men, hope that’s not going to be a problem here?”

Cadman laughed, “Considering our chief is gay, I don’t think you’ll find any here.  Come on I’ll show you the town on the way, it’s a party town, Maestro, and you’ll love it.”

They walked through town, Cameron with two overnight bags hanging off one shoulder and a suitcase in his other hand which Cadman didn’t offer to carry.  Not that Cameron needed any help built the way he was. At 6 foot and all muscle, with a chiselled jaw and short hair, the guy looked like a marine.

“Gafornasemano,” Cadman said to a passing guy, straggly looking but cute.  She liked abstract beauty.

“What?” the guy answered, a frown on his face.

“Were you playboy of the month, June?”

The guy started looking around him, checking there was just him, before he turned back to her, “No.”

“That’s funny because I thought I recognised your inner diameter slope.”

“What’s that?” the guy asked, frown still firmly in place.

“The part of your leg that curves into your inner thigh,” she responded with a smile, as she slowly traced a finger through the air, following an invisible curve.

The guy smiled back, until a girl stalked up and glared at Cadman while she hauled her boyfriend away.

“Works every time, Maestro,” she said with a smirk as she linked arms with Cameron, “I call you Maestro because you’re great with the chicks, right?  Well, the boys in your case.”

She dragged him through town, pointing out areas of interest, like Teyla’s bar and the like, until they reached the fire station.  Just as they rounded the corner, they saw two firemen with a hose each, pointed at the training tower to the left of the station.  

“All right, let’s go,” the first one said.

“All right, ready when you are,” the other one replied.  They both turned on their hoses, staring into the dry nozzles when nothing happened, oblivious to the mountain of water spurting out of the top of the fire engine behind them like a geezer.

“What’s going on here?” Cameron asked.

Cadman rolled her eyes, “Training.”

He shook his head in disbelief as he followed her into the stationwhere a fireman was being fitted by a tailor.  “I want it to say action with style, like a GQ fire fighter,” he was saying to the guy knelt on the floor with the tape measure.

“This is Cameron, our new pro.  A _real_ fire fighter,” Cadman said with a cheeky grin.

“Welcome,” said the man being fitted out, “I’m Mayor Deebs.  We didn’t expect you till Monday.”

“I came early to get a good start,” Cameron replied with a shrug of his shoulders. 

Deebs nodded, “This is Dean,” he pointed to the tall fireman on his right with a long face and a loose jaw, “and Trent,” he continued as he pointed to the fireman on his left, shorter and tubbier with dark hair and an open face, “and my personal tailor, Sam,” he finished as he nodded to the old guy on his knees who reminded Cameron of Pinocchio’s father.

“I’ll show you to your room,” Cadman said, leading him away, “We’ve got you a bunk set up till you  find something local.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cameron nodded as he walked away.

Cadman settled him in to his room, showed him around the place and introduced him to the rest of the crew.  It looked like all the people who were picked last for the team had formed their own team, but they were all welcoming, shaking his hand, open and honest smiles.  Cadman then took him to an office, empty apart from a desk, and went through the relevant paperwork with him although he was sure that some of the questions she asked were not even on the forms.  Pretty soon it was the end of her shift and she invited him into town to show him the inside of Teyla’s bar, and offering to introduce him to some of the town’s folk she knew would be there.  Cameron didn’t bother changing, and neither did Cadman, preferring her uniform over a summer dress.

At the bar Rodney and Teyla were sat having a drink together.  He’d been talking to Teyla in emails before coming out here and they had become good friends.  “Do you think I can get the telescope up the stairs?” he asked her.

Teyla cocked her head to the side for a moment, before nodded decisively, “I’ll ask John to leave his super hero comics.”

“He reads super hero comics?” Rodney asked in surprise.

“Yes, I think he has a lot in common with superheroes, it’s never surprised me that he likes reading about them,” Teyla returned with a smile.

“He’s very funny,” Rodney added, self-consciously.

“Yes, he is,” Teyla answered, looking slightly thoughtful.  “We’re very close.”  Which Rodney had already figured out, he just didn’t know how close or if John even shared his tastes.

“These uniforms really work,” he heard from behind him and looked over his shoulder to see a feisty looking woman in a fire-fighter’s uniform.  Her eyes picking out every guy in the place as she walked along the bar, but Rodney’s eyes invariably fell to the well built man at her side.  Two beautiful men in two days and both seemed to be batting for the other side, but Rodney was used to disappointment in his love life.

Teyla must have seen him eyeing up the man, “What about your boyfriend?” she asked, with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Richard,” Rodney confirmed, feeling the low alcoholic buzz leaving him at the thought of the man who had promised him so much and left him with so little.

“When is he coming?” Teyla asked.

“He’s not,” Rodney replied succinctly, twirling his drink in his hand.

“What happened?”

“We just ran out of gas.  I guess I mistook sex for love...again,” he said with a depreciating smile.

The barmaid appeared out of nowhere and leant across the bar, causing Rodney to lean back at the sudden invasion as she interrupted enthusiastically, “I did that once, it was great,” she said with a leer, before walking up the other end of the bar, towards the fire fighter.

“Sandy is a very deep person,” Teyla said, sarcasm in every word.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Rodney responded with a smirk.

Cadman had just spotted Rodney as his eyes followed Sandy up the bar.  He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen; she had a weakness for blue eyes.  “Oh, my God, who is that?”

“He can make my night,” Mitchell said, now fully aware that nothing shocked Cadman, or disgusted her.  “Who is he?”

“I’ve never seen him before,” Cadman said as she beckoned Sandy over, “Hey Sandy, who’s the new guy with Teyla?”

Sandy gave her a knowing smirk.  “That’s Rodney, he studies astronomy or astrology.”

“Is there a difference?” Cadman asked.  “Would I be wasting my time?” she asked, knowing with a combination of Teyla’s ability to draw information out of people and Sandy’s ability to listen in on every conversation at the bar that she would know.

“Well, he just mentioned a break up with a boyfriend,” she said smiling, watching Cadman frown in disappointment, “But then I just saw him eye up a tall blonde woman that walked by so I’d say both,” she added as she cast a look at the stranger next to Cadman, noticing the way he watched Rodney and figured she was wasting her time there.

Cadman grinned wide at Sandy’s words, she loved the chase.  

Sandy made her way down the bar, always eager to play cupid she leaned towards Rodney as she whispered, “Look’s like someone is checking you out.”  He followed her gaze up the bar, blushing when he made eye contact with Cameron.  “Now, he could cheer you up,” Sandy added with another leer before departing to the other end of the bar.

Back down the other end, Cadman noticed that although Rodney was looking their way, it seemed to be directed more at Cameron than at her, “If I was you,” she said as she nudged Mitchell in the side, nodding in Rodney’s directions, “I’d do something about that.”

“Maybe. **..** maybe later,” Mitchell said nonchalantly as he turned to lean against the bar, crossing his arms as he did so, which showed off his biceps sublimely as he added, “maybe not.”

“You are playing it beautifully,” Cadman said with a grin, casting a glance back towards Rodney to judge his reaction to Cameron’s bulging biceps on display.  He hadn’t seemed to notice yet, so maybe Cadman had a shot after all.  “Do you mind if I give it a shot?” she asked.

“No, you go right ahead,” Cameron said, not an ounce of deception in his voice.

“Thank you, Maestro,” Cadman smirked, patting him on the bicep before heading down the bar towards Rodney.  She tapped him on the shoulder, waiting until she had his full attention before she spoke, “I would like to invite you to a Nelson tradition of hot-tubbing,” she said with a smile.

“Pardon me?” Rodney asked, head slanted to the side as a frown spread over his face.  Cadman could see Teyla smiling in the background, having heard this before.

“It’s a tradition round here,” she said, lowering her voice to a more husky baritone, “We consume mulled wine and enjoy some outdoor hot-tubbing.”

Rodney’s face was a picture of disbelief, before a smile tugged at his mouth, “So, when the settlers came here years ago, they started hot-tubbing?”

“What?” Cadman answered, thrown for a minute before continuing, “Oh yeah.  Smart, I like that.”

“Cadman is what people call a man eater,” Teyla said with a smile, “and her ego is the size of Brazil.”

Rodney looked to Cadman, expecting to see outrage, but only saw smug pride which made him realise how much trouble he was in.  “Okay, I have to stop talking to you now.”

“Okay,” Cadman said, with a shrug of her shoulders, “no problem.  I’ll be over there if you change your mind,” she said, pointing along the bar.  “Think about it and if you change your mind, come on over. **..** and I think you might.”

“If I do change my mind, you will know, because I will gasp out your name,” Rodney said, in an overacted rendition of the swooning heroine, words dripping in sarcasm, but it didn’t have the desired effect.

“So long, foxy,” Cadman said with a leer as she left them, making her way back to the bar.

“Talk about role reversal.  I suddenly feel very guilty for every woman I’ve ever tried to pick up.  This is what it’s going to be like, being single?”

“I’ve been reliably informed she has a great ass,” Sandy said, making Rodney jump at her sudden reappearance.

“To bad it’s on her shoulders!” Rodney exclaimed, making both Teyla and Sandy laugh.

“He’s cute,” Sandy said, nodding towards the tall Viking stood with Cadman.

“I like cute, I just want to meet someone who is cute _and_ has half a brain.” 

“Good luck with that,” Teyla said, a smile still playing on her lips.


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


 Meanwhile, all the way across town, John Sheppard was stood outside a two story house very similar to his own.  He looked up at the boy sat on the roof of the house as he listened to the parents, “Peter went up there before school and won’t come down.”

“All right, I will see what I can do,” he said genially even as he wondered how he kept ending up on these jobs.  Maybe he should stop his habit of going to check on the night shift.

As he walked away he could hear the mother mumble to those around them, “He did it before, but he’s never stayed up there this long.”

The father pulled his wife into him, as he comforted her, “It’s going to be all right, honey.”

John went round the rear of the house, looking for a way up and finally figured it out.  He made his way up to the roof and then ambled over to where the kid was sitting on the roof top of one of the gables.  The kid was on the chubby side, knees pulled up with both elbows on them and his chin resting in his fists.  John sat down on the other gable roof top, close enough to be needed, far away enough not to crowd the kid.

“What’s the trouble, Peter?” he asked.  Nothing but silence, but he could see the kid wanted to talk, “Come on, what’s the matter?”  He urged gently.

“They call me ‘Porky’ at school,” he mumbled.  He cast a quick wary glance at John, like he thought he was going to agree with them.

“Why do they have to do that?  God damn it!  Sorry, I shouldn’t say that in front of you.  Did you talk to your mother about it?”

“Once I tried,” Peter said, the words muffled because he hadn’t lifted his chin off his fists when he talked, his whole demeanour was slumped like he was just too tired emotionally to bother sitting up straight, “She said I should clean up my plate first.”

John huffed a laugh.  “See, that’s good.  You are way better than those bullies.  You’re smart and funny with the imagination to make things up.”

“I didn’t make it up,” he replied sullenly, “its true.”

“Oh,” John answered, not sure where to go from there and sure he had just put his foot in it so deep that the kid wasn’t gonna listen to him whatever he said.

“Bastards!” the kid exclaimed, obviously thinking of the kids at school again, he straightened up abruptly, “Sorry, I’m not supposed to say that in front of you,” he stammered, eyes wary again.

John waved the worry away with a flick of his hand.

“Do I have to get down now?” the kid asked with resignation in his voice.

“No, let’s stay up here a while longer,” John answered, voice soft in sympathy.   People were always rushing him to deal with the real world, it was nice up here and John would keep the kid safe, why not let him take his time to realise that bullies were not worth this amount of anguish.  They stayed up there most of the night, the crowd dispersed shortly after he nodded to Peter’s parents that they should go in.  Eventually, Peter was ready to come down.  John made sure he got down safely and walked him to the back door.  Just before he was about to leave the kid just hugged him and mumbled, “thanks,” into his belly before making a break for the door.  John was left a bit nonplussed before he turned and headed home for the night.

xXx

The next morning brought another sun-blessed day and all the fire fighters were mingling around the station.  Cameron was being shown round again by Andy, but didn’t have the heart to tell the funny looking guy that Cadman already showed him this yesterday.  Also, all the other fire fighters were surreptitiously, but really obviously, listening into every word that Andy was telling him and Cameron couldn’t figure out why.  Surely they know where everything was.

“That’s our new computer.  We can pinpoint any fire in town with that,” Andy stated abstractly pointing, almost dismissively at the computer in the office behind him.

“Yes, I can see that,” Cameron answered patiently.

“It’s perfect for us **...** because we’re, you know, the fire department,” the guy added, his mind obviously on something else. Cameron just nodded, as he noticed that in the glass window of the office he could see the reflection of a fire fighter behind him waving his arms at Andy, urging him into something.  He wondered if this was their initiation thing.

“Erm, well that’s everything.” Andy said with a shrug.

Cameron looked at him askew, but when nothing else was forthcoming, he just nodded, “Well, thanks Andy.  I’ll see you later.”

He had just turned away, when Andy grabbed his arm loosely, “There is one thing....have you met the Chief yet?”

“No,” Mitchell answered, shaking his head and definitely feeling wary now.

“He’s funny looking,” Andy whispered, scrunching up his face as though he hates to have to say it out loud, “I wouldn’t mention it.”

“Of course not,” Cameron stated emphatically, before he started to turn away again.

Andy held him in place, a shrug again before he continued, “I figured you wouldn’t...” and the heavy pause insinuated he was not done yet as he struggled for more words, “but sometimes, you know...” stuttering to a halt again, only to stutter to a new start, “things accidentally slip out and then, you know...” and Cameron couldn’t take the painful act of Andy trying to find the right words.

“I won’t say anything,” Cameron stated as he looked Andy in the eye to show how sincere he was.  At Andy’s answering nod, even if his face still didn’t quite believe, Cameron decided to change the direction of the conversation, “So, where is the Chief?” he asked as he looked around, as if he was going to jump out of someplace.

“He is helping someone move, he’ll be in tomorrow,” Andy stated, “Look, I know you think you understand, but....”

Mitchell sighed and resigned himself to hearing this until the Chief showed up tomorrow.

xXx

On the outskirts of town, Rodney and John were hauling a telescope up a massive flight of stairs, to a wooden hut on stilts attached to the roof of the house at the rear.  “Watch it on that stair,” Rodney admonished.

“Who designed these steps? The Marquis de Sade?” Sheppard whined as he lifted the heavy telescope over the lip of the next stair, with Rodney hauling from the other end.  “And why is it so heavy?  It’s mostly air!”

“...and glass, so be careful,” Rodney puffed out, stress clear in his voice.

“My aunt knitted one of these.  It was much lighter than this,” John said, hoping to lighten his mood.

Rodney’s answering smirk was like a medal.  He loved being the one to put that smile there, but he’s always aiming for that big one that he saw when Rodney explained the universe to him.

“So, this second secret of yours relates to this?” John asked.

“Sort of yes,” Rodney said, looking wary and clearly not about to tell John anything.  John considered his options, and then casually let go of the telescope, and looked aimlessly around at their surroundings with a heavy sigh.

“John!  John!  What are you doing, John?  I can’t hold this by myself,” Rodney whined, pleading and panic in his voice.

“You don’t have to tell me your big secret,” John said nonchalantly, figuring he’d best get to the point because he’s only got seconds before he’ll have to help out or the telescope will slip and it’s heavy enough that the momentum will be too much for John to stop.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you,” Rodney wailed, feet already starting to drag across the stair from the weight of the telescope.

John swooped in, taking the load again, “All right, start talking.  Here we go,” he added as he started lifting and pushing again.

“I’m not just here to look at any comet.   I’m here to look at one I discovered.  That means that if I’m right, I get to name it,” and there is Rodney’s beaming smile again, before it fades away to be replaced by a shrug, “It’s no big deal, there are a lot of comets.  I was working on this paperon the oort cloud, and I discovered a mathematical irregularity.”  

“I haven’t climbed this many steps since I went to the Maharishi,” John puffed out.

Rodney ignored him, caught up in his explanation now, the smile starting to bloom again, “I think it’s a series of ten comets.”  He paused as they reached the platform surrounding the hut, “Watch it around this corner,” he cautioned as they took the telescope off the stairs and round to the left.  “Or the forerunner of a big comet,” he continued as if he had never paused, “which is due back this summer.”

“You’ll be able to find it with this?” John asked, some doubt creeping into his voice.

“No, Zelenka is looking for it in a big scope in Arizona.”

John glared at Rodney, “So, I carried it up here for nothing?”

Rodney huffed out a laugh, “Hardly.  Do I look as if I do physical exertion without a reason?  Put that counter balance on that arm with the key,” he added, handing over a key for the weight. 

John wasn’t surprised that Rodney was setting it up now.  You didn’t really want to climb those stairs more than once a day.  He did as Rodney said, and took the key from him while he asked, “So, what do you get if you’re right?”

“Nothing,” Rodney answered, but his smug tones bellied that statement as he continued, “Just the right to name it, and to go down in the history books.”

“That is sorta cool,” John responded.

“Comet Meredeth.”    

“Who’s Meredeth?” John asked, jealously tingeing his words, “Why not name it after yourself?”

Rodney blushed brightly, even as his eyes widened like a trapped animal, obviously wishing he could take the name back but then he gave a defeated sigh, eyes closing as he responded, “I _am_ naming it after myself.  Meredeth is my first name.” Rodney’s eyes opened, and his chin jutted out in what John now knew to be a defensive move, “It’s a family name, I was named after my Grandfather and I’m naming the comet after him. **...** and me.”  A small smile started to creep on to Rodney’s face, the twinkle returning to his eyes, even as they glazed over with some distant memory, “It was my Grandfather who got me into astronomy.  He used to take me out back and look at the stars before bed.  He taught me every name there was.  He was the one who brought me my first telescope and explained what a galaxy was.  He showed me the universe and he became mine, I still miss him every day.”

John smiled softly, “It’s a lovely name.”

Rodney turned and smiled at him, “thanks,” he said quietly, quickly ducking his head in obvious embarrassment and pretending to set up the focus on the telescope.

John took pity on him and decided to change the subject, “So, when did you find out about this?”

Rodney leapt on the change of subject, “July, give or take ten days.”

John spent the entire day with Rodney, and he fell a little deeper.  Rodney loved to talk, and John loved to listen to him.  He didn’t just want to know what Rodney liked, he wanted to understand him   and know him on a level that no one else did.  If this didn’t work out, at least he would have that.  Something of Rodney that was his alone, and not for every stranger that Rodney met.  It was foolish but it made John feel good, every time he learnt something new.  Eventually, they had to part ways but John convinced Rodney to meet him at Teyla’s and when Rodney agreed, he rushed home to change.  Wanting to look good, even if Rodney didn’t realise it was a date.

Rodney on the other hand, who knew this wasn’t a date, had still thrown on his blue shirt that he knew brought out his eyes, and the soft blue jeans that hugged his thighs, before he left.  John may not lean his way but Rodney can’t help dressing up for him, he just hoped Teyla wouldn’t call him on it. 

When he made his way to Teyla’s bar to meet John, he saw Cadman.  _Oh God, here we go,_ he thought to himself.  She was stood in the middle of the sidewalk so he couldn’t avoid her without crossing the street and Rodney’s never run from anyone in his life.  Weirdly though he wondered if he should start now because she was in a huge fur coat, in this weather.  

He tried to pretend he hadn’t seen her but she stepped into his path, “Do you remember me?”

“I’m trying to put it behind me,” he said with a tight smile, and then he noticed the shop behind her.  _Oh my God_.  “Is this your shop?” he asked hesitantly, but he knew the answer already, feeling the stirrings of panic in his heart, _she’s going to kill me and stuff me and put me in her shop._

“Yes, all mine,” she responded with a smile, as if she was proud of it.

The shop was full of dead animals, stuffed and mounted.  In amongst these atrocities there were leather couches, fur skins stretched over tables, floor rugs.  Then he’d suddenly realised the name of the shop is “All things Dead” and there could not be a more apt name for the shop.  For a man eater, it was somehow appropriate, even if she was a woman.  “It’s perfect,” he managed.

“Thank you very much,” she answered, with the air of someone who hadn’t expected anything but praise.

“It’s really you,” he added, making sure every word was as heavy with sarcasm as he could make it just to see her response.

“I appreciate that,” she said coyly as she moved closer, still oblivious and seemingly deaf to sarcasm.  It was quite remarkable to watch.  “Come in and check out the freeze-dried animals, they are incredibly lifelike.”

“Erm. **..**  maybe next time,” he said with a smile as he edged round her and all but ran for Teyla’s, with never a look behind him.  They always said you shouldn’t waste time looking back if something horrible was chasing you.

Rodney entered the bar and eventually found Teyla and Sandy already at a table in the bar with a drink for him and one each, neither of them scheduled to work that night.  There seemed to be a giant behind the bar who quite frankly scared the hell out of him and hadn’t stopped glaring at him since he sat down next to Teyla.  Everyone else seemed totally at ease with the mountain of a man in dreadlocks, but Rodney couldn’t help but think he’d just been interrogated in a foreign language, and worse still, he was pretty sure that somehow he had answered the questions but as he didn’t know how he had done it, he’s a little worried that he might not have given the right answers.  He had therefore chosen to shift slightly so the behemoth was outside his line of sight and therefore possible to ignore the daggers in the back.

“Don’t look now,” Sandy said, “but the Viking just walked in.”  Of course all three of them glanced towards the door, just in time to watch Cameron walk in.  “He should be bronzed,” Sandy added wistfully.  Rodney totally agreed but he hadn’t responded, he had been too intenton watching Cameron as he walked through the bar, seeing as people made way for the fire department that surrounded him and Rodney only then figured out that Cameron is not only single, but he’s a fireman which meant that Cameron had a fireman’s uniform.

“It’s now or never,” Rodney said out loud, without even realising it as his thoughts were turned inwards.  He was sat there, dressed up and waiting for John when he didn’t even know which side the guy bats for, when there was a hunk of a man catching his eye across the bar.  

“Do it, Rodney,” Sandy urged, grinning widely with a twinkle in her eye.

“There is only one way to tell,” Teyla added.

Rodney made a decision as he watched Cameron walk into the men’s toilet, eyes dropping to that rear as he did so.  “Okay, when he comes out. **...** ” he smirked, “I will invite him to a Nelson tradition of hot-tubbing **...** and I will set him up with some mulled wine, and I will bathe him **...** _a lot_ ,” he added with empathise.

“I’m shocked,” Teyla said as she grinned wide, before she broke into laughter.

“I’m not shocked,” Sandy said with a grin as she gave a gentle shake to her head.  Rodney didn’t think anything shocked her, but he didn’t say anything.  He didn’t want anything to distract him from the moment Cameron walked back out that door.

Unfortunately, and unbeknown to Rodney, Cameron had been having a small panic attack inside the restroom and trying to talk himself out of it.  “Confidence, confidence... a little water and I’m ready to talk to him.”  He had walked decisively over to the sink determined that he was not going to back out this time.  He’d twisted the tap firmly **,** a little too firmly as water sprayed into the sink and over the top of it, straight onto his pants.  “Oh no,” he stepped back in defeat.  He now looked like he’d wet himself, and coming out of the toilet was only going to strengthen that thought to everyone in the room, especially Rodney.  He couldn’t face him like this.  He looked to the small window on the side wall and made a decision.

A short while later the door to the toilet opened on an empty restroom, the window was open and the curtain was flapping in the summer breeze.


	5. Chapter 5

  
  


John walked along the street on his way home to shower before he was due to meet Rodney.  The sun was shining brightly and it was a glorious day, but his mind was turned inwards, thinking of Rodney.  It was all he seemed to do these days, the guy consumed his every thought.

 Suddenly he realised that Mayor Deebs is walking towards him, Trent alongside him and behind them was a cow on a lead.  _Why is Deebs taking a cow for a walk?_ He wondered to himself, but he didn’t have to wait for long.

 “John, it came to me last night in a flash,” Deebs exclaimed as one arm pin wheeled in the air, a huge smile spread over his face.

 “What’s that?” John asked, not entirely sure himself if he meant the thought or the cow.

 “The thing, the gimmick: The Nelson promotional cow!”  Deebs smile got even wider, grinning with exuberance as he carried on, eager to explain, “You give her a name; Suzy, Bossy, whatever.  You teach her to drink beer and then you put her picture on our posters, a cow drinking a beer.”  He seemed to suddenly realise that John wasn’t getting as enthusiastic about the idea as he should be.  “These things work,” he added defensively.

 “I think it’s a fantastic idea,” John said animatedly while inside he had still been trying to get his head round the concept.  _A drinking cow? What does that say about our town – that even the cows are drunks??_

 “You like it?” Deebs asked eagerly, already grinning in anticipation of his response.

 “I love it, I think it’s great!” John said, with false cheer because damned if he was going to spend his time standing here telling Deebs that he was totally wackjob insane.  Not when he could be home, showered and stood at Teyla’s waiting for Rodney. 

He managed to get away fairly unscathed by Deeb’s lunacy.  He reached home and showered.  Spent an age deciding what to wear and then realised that it wasn’t a date and he was over fantasising again.  He dressed in black jeans with a white dress shirt and grabbed a sandwich for dinner before he made his way into town.  

John walked into Teyla’s bar and, with no sign of Rodney yet, he made his way to the bar.  He quickly found himself cornered by Deebs who had his arm glued round the waist of some blonde tourist.  John couldn’t help wondering if Deebs had the cow out back with a row of beers lined up.  “You think people go to Sun Valley to see their fire department?” Deebs asked, “No, work with me.  You have to use promotion, that way the town grows and the fire department grows.”

“I’m just saying, you can’t run a fire department with the banana brothers,” John said exasperated, “We need professional fire fighters.”

“This town could be another Aspen,” the Mayor explained, “They make tons of money.  As soon as this Oktoberfest is over, you will get your funds back, okay.”

“Like I have a choice,” John sighed.  He hated politics with a passion, but there was something about Deebs that stopped him from ever really getting mad with him.  Exasperated quite frequently, but never mad.  He sighed heavily, until he suddenly spotted Rodney sitting with Teyla, he must have missed him arrive, distracted by Deebs.  “There’s Teyla, I’ll see you later, okay.”

“Sure, sure,” Deebs assured him, with his arm still hanging around his female companion. _  
_

John walked over to their table, he graced Teyla’s temple with a kiss before he sat down opposite, with butterflies in his stomach, next to Rodney who offered John a welcoming smile and then looked at John’s empty hands.  “You not drinking?” he asked.

John shook his head, “Nah, I have a drink, then I start to relax and next thing you know I’m starting to have fun.  It’s not something I want to start at this point in my life,” he finished, smirking at Rodney, just pleased to be here next to him.  God did he have it bad.

Rodney smiled back and about to say something when a stranger leant on the table and leaned into John’s space, “Hey, I hear you’re tough.”

He tensed, about to react out of instinct but he restrained himself, he couldn’t do that, not with Rodney having a front row seat.  He didn’t want Rodney to see that side of him, ever, so he controlled the need to show this guy any reaction and just responded lightly, “I am...” his smile tight, “...but if you use a little tenderizer, I cook up pretty good.”

“Assehole,” the guy responded with a sneer and John wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off before his temper flared so he figured he should just walk away.  He stood up, walking past the guy and heading for the side door when the guy called after him, “Where you going scarface?” 

The music that had been playing in the background screeched to a halt, literally.  The loud buzz of conversation stilled, with the exception of a few people and that alone marked them as outsiders.  As John turned he could see people waving at the guy that he should just run.  John already knew the guy was too stupid to do that, the guy was in luck anyway because Rodney was looking on and he couldn’t react how he normally would.  John just knew what he would think to a show of violence, already making it clear from earlier conversations that he preferred that people use their mind, so that’s what John would do, for once reacting with thought instead of instinct. 

“That the best you can do?” John asked, with a grin plastered across his face that felt strange and alien and in stark conflict to the anger inside.  “I mean, you have this,” he indicated the scar running up the side of his neck and into his jaw, “and that’s the best you can do?”

“Oh, and you can do better I suppose?” the stranger sneered at him.

John smirked, “Oh I reckon I could, yes.”  The smile was smug and designed to challenge the guy enough that he stuck around for John’s plan, but not enough that he responded physically.  He sauntered past the guy, who tensed expecting John to attack him, but John just smiled all the wider as he reached the dart board and pulled out a dart.  “Pick a number,” he said, “Pick a number and I’ll find that many responses, and they’ll all be better than yours.”

The guy smiled his own smug smile and came and took the dart from John, he walked back to the line and turned, throwing the dart with precision and sure enough it thunked into the top segment, the number twenty.  “Best of three, “ John said, as he pulled out the dart and handed it back to the guy.  Everyone in the place was still watching, and there was a slight smattering of laughter at his words.

The guy just smiled and repeated the throw, twenty again.  “Darts Champion, Denver” he said with a smile.

 _Damn.  Okay, he could do this._ He had a lifetime of insults to take from.  “Fine, fine.  Here goes.  Twenty something betters.  I’ll start with the obvious,” he said looking to the stranger who was stood centre stage with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face.  John turned to him, directing his words to him, “If we killed everybody who thinks you’re ugly, it wouldn't be murder it would be an apocalypse!”

There was soft hesitant laughter from the audience, all more than aware that John could take the point of view that anyone laughing at these lines, could in effect be laughing at him.  He turned and smiled at the audience, letting them know it was okay to find humour in these words, at least it was tonight.

“Literary,” he shouted at the audience, before turning to the stranger again, “they need to create a whole new word for you....because ugly just don’t cover it.  Neither does Fugly.”  He continued in this fashion, shouting out the genre of the insult to the audience with a smile and flair, but turning back to the bully to deliver the insult to his face.  “Fashionable: You could detract from your face if you wore something larger...like Wyoming.Personal: Who needs birth control with a face like that.  Sincerity: Well, they do say opposites attract…so I sincerely hope you meet somebody who is attractive, honest, intelligent, and cultured.  Envious: Oh, I wish I were you... to know there’s not a chance in hell that anybody is with you just for your looks,” he paused as he cast his eyes up and down the full length of the guy, “... or your body. Political correctness:   You’re no longer ugly; from now on you’re just humanitarianly challenged.Philosophical: It’s what’s inside that count’s.....luckily for you,” he looked the guy in the eye as he shrugged cocking his head to the side with a shit eating grin as he added, “...or not.” 

The audience were getting into it now, laughing easily and with every insult thrown directly at the guy who had insulted John, the smug smile had slipped from his face.  His body starting to tense as he realised he was being insulted again and again and not only that, the entire bar was laughing with John and at him.  He obviously wasn’t sure how to deal with it. _  
_

“Humorous: Laugh and the world laughs with you...turn your back and they laugh at you... face them and they start screaming.   Contradictory: I wouldn’t call you ugly... that would be an insult to ugly people.  Evolution:  When they said humanity would evolve, I don’t think this is the pathway they had in mind.  Psychiatry: You have an inferiority complex and with a face like that, it’s fully justified.  Melodic: It was unfair of the song ‘Ugly Duckling’ to raise your hopes like that. Sympathetic:  What happened?  Did your parents lose a bet with God?  Anthropological: Now we know why some animals eat their own young.  Deep South: Exactly how close were your mother and your uncle? ...and the family dog.  Scientific: Ahhh, Doctor Frankenstein’s work I presume.  Inquiry: When you stop and smell the flowers...are they afraid? Artistic: I think I know what inspired Edvard Munch when he painted ‘The Scream’ - How many is that?”

“Fourteen, Chief,” one of his crew shouted out to him.

“All right, religious:  You’re the reason God stopped on the 7th day.  No way in hell was he gonna risk repeating a mistake like you again!” _  
_

“Fifteen,” the audience cheered as one, now fully enjoying themselves and laughing raucously.

“Suggestion: You could always work in the tourist trade...as the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Sixteen.”

“Military: I've come across rotting bodies that are less offensive than you are.”               

“Seventeen.”                 

“Aromatic: I think my nose is broken.  You don’t smell as if you’re decomposing, and yet...”  John waved a hand up and down the guy, from head to toe but left the line hanging.

“Eighteen.”

“Appreciative: Oh, how original. A scarecrow for humanity.”

“Nineteen.”                  

“All right...” he paused, actually having trouble now.               

“You can do it, Sheppard, one more,” he heard from the audience and he fancied that was Rodney.               

“Dirty:  You’re what’s referred to as a 7 bagger, aren’t ya?  I know I would need at least 7 bags over your head before I came near you.”

The guy had already uncrossed his arms, taking a fighting stance as he neared the end, but having stood there and be insulted twenty times was too much.  He took a step towards John as he growled, “You smartass son of a bitch!”

John leant into his space, nose to nose as he responded, his voice wavering with anger, “You insult to humanity, you dull brained Neanderthal.”

He turned to walk away, but the gasp of the crowd alerted him to the attack and turning he found the man had finally had enough and was mid-way through a punch, aimed at him.  He blocked the throw, pushing his arm to the side and continued turning so he now had his back to the man, he pushed his elbow in sharp and viciously hitting the guy in his ribcage and as the man leant forward, winded, John brought his hand up and smacked his fist backwards into the centre of the man’s face.

He walked towards Rodney’s table and leant over, whispering, “Has he fallen yet?”

Rodney’s wide blue eyes looked over John’s shoulder, just as John heard the thud of a body hitting the floor.  Rodney turned back to him with a smile, his eyes shining in merriment as he nodded, “Yes.”

John looked into his eyes but just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything and then he stood and walked away. Annoyed that it had come to blows, and annoyed that this stranger had interrupted his evening with Rodney, he was not in the mood to smile and laugh so he left.  He wanted his time with Rodney to be good, not marred by ill feeling. _  
_

xXx _  
_

John was sitting with Teyla the next day at Liz’s Diner.  He had always thought it was nice here; it had a homely feel that he loved, and a sweet apple pie that he adored.  Teyla had been making small talk.

“I got $5000 for the house this summer.”

“Which one of the five?  The one on Rush Street?”

“Yes, you like him, do you not?”

“What’s not to like,” he answered with a shrug.

“Then why do you not ask him out?”

“No, I can’t.  I have a 2 O’clock and a 5 O’clock, they’re lined up, mostly because of the old saying.”

Teyla looked at him quizzically, so he continued, “....about a man’s shoe size relating to the size of...”

“The size of what?”

John looked at her sideways, “Come on, everyone knows this.”

Teyla continued to look at him quizzically, but there was a minute pulling at the corner of her mouth that he was sure meant she was having him on.  He turned to Old Mrs Gurinni, who was sat with her bingo chums at the next table.  “Hey, Lydia. Do you know the old saying about a man’s shoe size?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment before the answer came to her, “Oh, you mean how the size of a man’s shoe relates to the size of his....?  Oh, my God!”

Lydia had blushed scarlet and her friends were all laughing at her.  John turned back to Teyla with a big grin, “I love doing that to them.”

Teyla shook her head and John thought he had just about managed to change the subject successfully when Teyla just asked outright, “So, why do you not ask him out?”

He should have known better.  She wouldn’t let this go.  He’d taken a sip of his coffee to stall his answer but now he put the cup back down with a heavy sigh, resigned to the truth he turned to her, little realising how obviously she could read the sadness in his eyes, “Sometimes I take a walk at night and I see couples walking, holding hands and I look at them and I think, ‘Why not me?’ and then someone will walk past and see the scar and I’ll see the horror in their eyes that they can’t quite hide and I’ll remember why not me.”  The last words had a bitter twist to them that he couldn’t hide even he wanted to.

“You think Rodney would look at you like that.  Has Rodney ever looked at you like that?”

“I won’t have people pity him for being with me.  He deserves someone special, he deserves better than me,” he finished resignedly.

“Surely that’s Rodney’s choice, not that I agree with you one bit by the way.”

“I’m right here, Teyla.  I’m stood right here waiting.  If he doesn’t have an issue with the scar then why hasn’t he asked? He’s made his choice.”

“You’d be surprised.  I don’t think Rodney would care, but you do and that saddens me.  Is there nothing more that can be done with surgery?”

John shook his head softly, “No, nothing more.”

“What about make up.  Some foundation or concealer?” she suggested.

John shook his head, “It would still be there underneath.  Besides,” he shrugged uncomfortably, “I’d feel funny wearing makeup.”

“Because of what your father said?” Teyla asked softly.

“Teyla.  Enough,” John bit out, the pain obvious even to his own ears.

She closed her eyes briefly but honoured his demands.  Sometimes you just had to say outright that you weren’t going to talk about it or she would carry on.  Even now, John knew it wasn’t the last time, that she would eventually get him to talk through everything that had ever hurt him.  She cared though, really cared and he felt an inner peace in her presence that he wasn’t ready to give up yet so he let her, but he wasn’t about to have that discussion in the middle of the cafe.

They carried on with their food and gradually the air got less heavy and the smiles a little easier until soon enough they were back to normal.  They made their way out of the diner, only to run into Sandy who poked John in the ribs, “You should have stayed last night.  You were great, we were impressed.  Rodney went on and on about you.”

“He did?” John asked with that familiar burst of butterflies in his stomach.

“I think he’s falling in love, but he doesn’t know it yet,” Sandy was saying conspiratorially to Teyla.

John froze, not even saying goodbye to Sandy as she walked on her way.  “What does she mean, ‘she thinks he’s falling in love?’” John asked, and no matter how he tried he couldn’t keep his voice from cracking as he tried to keep the excitement contained inside.

Teyla wouldn’t look him in the eye, “It has been known to happen, hadn’t you better be getting back to the station?” she asked.  He glanced at his watch and realised the time.  She was right; he had to meet the fire fighter, who he still hadn’t met after three days.  John hoped the guys had told him what to expect.  He doubted they realised he was aware that they had their own meeting with every new starter before he met them, but there was no apprehension today, the thought that Rodney might love him had filled him with an euphoria that he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Okay, but I want to talk to you later,” he said with a smile, too caught up in his own hopes and dreams to see Teyla’s face fall a little more before he turned and made his way to the station.


	6. Chapter 6

  
  


At the fire station Markham was trying to prepare the new fire fighter Cameron for his first meeting with John, who he knew was due any minute.  They always tried to warn the new guys, it usually failed but they had to try.  They all hated to see that shuttered look on John’s face when someone saw the scar first and him second.

“Have you met John yet?” Markham asked.

“No, not yet,” Cameron answered distractedly  It was obvious he was thinking more about his next shot on the pool table than the conversation at hand.

“There’s something you should know,” Markham started, stopping when he didn’t realise how to continue.

“He’s got a scar, right? Andy told me.”

“Whatever you do, don’t stare.”

Cameron turned to look at him, a slightly wounded look on his face, “Come on, I’m not going to stare.”

“None of us would,” Markham says emphatically shaking his head as if to reinforce the thought, “but you get there and you feel yourself _not_ staring.  Then it seems obvious you are not staring, so you look and you think, ‘I’m staring’, and then you think, ‘this is ridiculous’ so you take a look and you think, It’s like he’s been bred with a peacock, and...”

“Thank you guys,” Cameron interrupted, flapping his hands in the universal language of enough already.  “I understand and I promise I won’t stare.”

Markham shook his head wearily.   _It’s the same every time._ “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

∞x∞ _  
_

When John reached the station he could hear the guys up on the first floor in the recreation room and figured the new guy would be with them.  Sure enough when he climbed the stairs he found him playing pool.  

Andy saw him and put out a hand toward the only stranger there, “Chief, this is Cameron Mitchell,” he said with a slight apprehension to his eyes when he looked at the new guy.

John came and leant on the pool table, looking down the length of the table to Cameron who was stood at the other end.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.  I’m sorry we’ve been missing each other.  Are you all right?  I know you’ve met the guys...” he noticed Cameron’s eyes hadn’t left him, and he realised with a smouldering anger that Cameron’s eyes were focused on his neck, the side with the scar.

“How’s your room?” he asked, turning so the scar was facing away.  Cameron leant to the side, so the scar was in his line of sight again, still not answering his questions, clearly mesmerised.  He turned back to face him head on, “its hypnotic, isn’t it?” he queried, his voice falling low and cold.

Everyone else in the room was tense and the air was tight with expectations, Cameron oblivious to it all.  “They said scarred.  I was expecting puckered skin, not blue and green scales.  It looks like they used lizard skin as a graft,” he said in wonder, missing John’s flinch at his words as he rounded the table and grabbed John by his biceps, oblivious to the taut muscles under his fingertips he held John in place while he studied the scar, ignorant of every other person in the room fleeing quietly and quickly by the nearest exit.  “The way it catches the light, like it’s covered in oil.”

Cameron looked around, seemingly expecting agreement from the rest of the crew.  When he realised they were alone, his hands left John’s biceps as if burnt.  The wonder in his eyes turned to wariness as his body tensed.  As soon as Cameron’s hands left his body, so did the anger.  _Rodney loved him._   He smiled at Cameron, determined that this wondrous day would not be marred by conflict, “Do you want to shoot some pool?  Rack ‘em up, we’ll play a game.”

“You’re not gonna kill me?”  Cameron asked, eyeing all the exits in a heartbeat, “The guys said...”

John interrupted Cameron, “Well, ordinarily, I would, but not today.”

“Why not?” he asked warily as his eyes watched John’s every move, tensing again when John reached for the pool cue.

John knew he probably looked a little manic but it was taking all his experience not to let the happiness he felt inside bubble up into laughter, “Because yesterday he didn’t, but today....” he leant in close to Cameron, letting the smile flood his face, “Today he does.”

Cameron nodded, he had a look in his eye that maybe he thought John had lost the plot, but John couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Trent crept back up the stairs, approaching John as he said, “You finally got a sense of humour about your scar?”

John grabbed hold of Trent’s tie and swung him round in a circle, making eye contact with hard cold eyes before depositing him on the bench.  He may be okay today, a little harder to reach under the armour that Rodney had inadvertently gifted him with, but he didn’t want them to misunderstand that he was okay with his scar, he would _never_ be okay with his scar.

John turned away from him, ignoring Trent and the sounds he made as he scurried from the room and down the stairs. “So, you gonna rack em up, or should I?” John asked a wide eyed Cameron.

Cameron was still tense and looked at John as if he might turn Psycho on him any minute, but he did rack them up and they did play pool.  

As John discussed his plans for the station and the crew, with no mention of their earlier discussion, Cameron slowly relaxed.  He even added in thoughts of his own, explaining training techniques that he had found to be very effective and by the last game, they had both relaxed and figured out a rough plan of action to get the station and its crew up to standard. John explained that Lorne couldn’t help with the training as he was needed to manage the night crew as they were nowhere near ready to be left on their own.  They needed at least one competent fireman on each shift.

“No time like the present,” John said with a grin as he racked his cue.  “Let’s show these men what real fire fighters look like, eh?”

Cameron smiled, also racking his cue, “Lets.”

They went down stairs to find the men all huddled at the bottom of the steps, looking up at them with a nervous tension. John smiled to himself as he watched every man look Cameron over from head to foot, looking for damage, and their surprise when there wasn’t any.

“Oh, good, you’re all here.  We’re going to start training.  All gear up, full kit,” he said as he smiled widely, the happiness he felt inside bleeding into his words, clapping his hands together he urged them into movement, “chop, chop, days-a-wasting.”

They all bustled about, knocking into each other as they made their way to their respective lockers.  Not a single one save Stackhouse seemed to have sense of anything around them.  John shook his head in fond exasperation and nearly laughed out loud when he saw the shocked look on Cameron’s face at the men in action.  Getting mad at these guys was like kicking puppies.  He and Cameron went to prepare the training yard next door.

One by one, the guys made their way out into the yard.  John placed three of them on one hose pointed at the rescue tower, the rest watching.  He turned behind him and started up the ancient record player, the classical melodies floating through the yard.  “Okay, turn on the hose,” he shouted to Cameron.  The three guys grunted at the sudden pressure they had to contain to hold it in place.  “Right, the secret to moving a hose is in the rhythm,” he said, counting out the beats like a conductor as he side stepped in time to the music.  

The guys face’s cleared in comprehension as they realised what he wanted them to do when he stepped to the left still counting out the beats in the music, “To the left, one, and, two, and three,” and they followed him, stumbling through the steps as they handled the enormous pressure of the water trying to force them backwards.  “To the right, and one, and two, and three.”  

There were huge grins all round as they started to get it.  “Now forward,” he watched them stagger forward two paces.  It wasn’t smooth, but at least it was movement, “Now back.”

They led the entire crew through the training exercises.   Then they moved on to the fire truck, allocating one man to each job and explaining in full their responsibilities and duties.  Finally, they were ready for a dry run.  John stood to one side as Cameron got everyone to the side in their starting positions and then called “Go,” as he started the stop watch.  He didn’t bother keeping time after the first three seconds of watching the chaos unfold in front of him.

John watched in disbelief as two guys spent the entire time facing each other, unable to get past each other because they kept angling the same way.  A third was running around like a headless chicken, unfortunately, this was the guy holding the fire hose and he therefore managed to wrap up and pull over three people that had actually managed to amble in roughly the right directions.

They ran through it again and again and again until they started to get some sort of cohesion out of them, but even after three hours they were still only at the level John had been expecting on their first run through.  They had just restacked the truck when someone decided to turn on the water, he found out later that they thought they were tightening it closed, and of course the hose had been left open so it filled in seconds and the force of the water whipped the hose out of the truck.  One guy leapt on the end of the hose but with only his weight against the water, he was pushed all around the yard.  

“What are you doing?” John yelled at the heroic but stupid man on the end of the hose as he tried to wrap his legs around the hose to reduce the whipping movements, “turn it off, turn it off,” he shouted to the guy standing next to the water pump, doing nothing but watching his fellow crewman get thrown around the practice yard.  The man finally jumped into action, turning off the water. 

 John watched as the man in the practice yard leapt away from the now inert hose and the way the rest of the crew were watching it like a cobra about to strike.  Great, now he had fireman afraid of a fire hose.  He sighed, looking over at Cameron and knowing by the look on his face that he had seen the fear the men now held.

“Okay, get in a row over here,” he said, indicating the side of the hose.  “Stackhouse, you first, now pick up the hose,” and Stackhouse did, a little hesitantly but he did as he was told.  “Water is your friend, learn to trust it.”

John indicated to the guy near the pump to turn on the water.  “Right, turn it up slowly.  Get a good stream and lean into it. Good, trust it, Stackhouse.  Remember; Water is your friend.”  He noticed someone further down the line wave to Trent on the water pump and the water immediately cut out, leaving Stackhouse with no support and a short sharp fall into the mud at his feet.

“Very funny, Deebs.  Now it’s your turn.”

Eventually, after hours of hard training, he finally had a crew worthy of the term novice.  He hadn’t really been expecting the improvement to be as huge as it had been but the guys had put their all into it, so he left work with a spring in his step, eager for the next day.  He actually thought he might just be able to whip these guys into actual firemen, with Cameron’s help.

xXx

Walking through town on his way home John stopped and talked to the old ladies sitting on the bench outside the coffee shop.  It had been a great day.  From lunch time onward he had been full of exuberance and joy and everything seemed to shine a little brighter, he seemed to breathe a little easier.  A truck pulled up behind the bench and as he looked up he saw Teyla at the wheel, with Rodney sat next to her and he felt the smile fall easily on to his face.

“Flirting with Sophie and Lydia again, John?” Teyla asked, while the two old girls giggled like teenagers.

“John, can I talk to you?” Rodney asked, leaning out the window slightly.

“Well....” John started hesitantly before breaking out into a grin, “all right.”  He stepped up onto the bench next to the old ladies and over the back rest to land on the other side, taking the quickest path possible so that he was leaning into Teyla’s truck in record time.

“Can we go somewhere?” Rodney asked with a slight blush to his cheeks.

The butterflies returned to John’s stomach, with a slight burst of panic.  Rodney was going to ask him, he wanted the setting to be perfect, “Yeah, I think I know just the place.  You’ll think it’s ugly but I like it.”

He opened the door as Rodney unlocked his seatbelt, holding it for him as he climbed out the truck.  He looked over at Teyla and was surprised to find hesitation in her eyes but before he could figure it out Rodney was talking to him again, asking where they were going and John closed the door on the truck without a backward glance, entranced by Rodney as always.  

He led Rodney away from the main high street, behind the town and up into the hills.  He used to come here when he visited his aunt as a young boy trying to deal with the death of his mother.  This was where the electricity pylons that fed the town were located.  Big ugly metal constructions, but John always liked it here nonetheless.   Because of the pylons, no one came out this way and nature knew it.  The grasses grew tall, nearly waist high, burned yellow by the summer sun.  Butterflies flittered between the wild flowers that grew at the base of the metal monstrosities and the peaceful quiet was only broken with the birds calling to one another.

He reached the top of the sloping hill and turned to Rodney who was huffing and puffing behind him, “Okay, was I right?”

“Yep, it is ugly,” Rodney agreed after only a moment’s hesitation, looking around at the horizon before looking back to John with a slight blush to his cheeks that John didn’t think was due to the exertion of climbing the hill.  Rodney’s eyes fell to his hands as they stroked the tops of the grasses at his waist, “What I will say is a little forward...”

“Good,” John said, eager to hear the words he’d wanted to hear since he met this amazing man.

Rodney gave a smile at that, seeming to agree that expediency was best, “There is someone I think I should get to know better, someone who I think likes me too.  You know what I mean?” Rodney asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” John answered so breathlessly it was almost a sigh.  The anticipation of what was to come was zinging through his body, his heart thumping and the smile harder and harder to contain.

“I think he wants to talk to me.  I can see him trying, but he won’t,” Rodney shrugged self-consciously.

“Maybe this guy needs you to make the first move?”  John suggested, suddenly nervous that Rodney would leave this to him, knowing already that the fear of rejection would trap these words in his throat, never to be uttered.

“That’s why I’m talking to you,” Rodney said, still unusually hesitant.

“So... what do you know about his guy?” John asked, wanting to know what it was that made Rodney see past the scar, when in most cases it was all anybody saw.

“I know he’s interesting...different.”

“Yes,” John conceded, he was definitely different, _not many blue skinned humans round here_.

“Intelligent,” Rodney continued, “handsome.”

“He’s what?” John asked, his voice a mix of disbelief and awe.

Rodney frowned slightly, “He’s handsome.”

John smiled affectionately, as he turned away in embarrassment, “Isn’t it amazing?  If you have feelings for someone, how you can see them as handsome?”

Rodney’s voice rose behind him, a slight tone of indignation entering his voice, mixed with confusion, “Everyone thinks he is?”

“No,” John said, shaking his head, “Not everyone, believe me.”

“What are you talking about?” Rodney asked.

John turned back to him to see that his frown had deepened.  Rodney was going to argue that John was handsome, that John shouldn’t see himself as any other way but John hadn’t want any arguments today so he had just agreed, “Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head, “It’s great that he is all of these things to you.”

Rodney looked at him warily before his own mind distracted him.  The soft smile that pulled at his mouth, the sparkle in his eyes as he turned away, looking at the horizon around him.  John was the happiest he had ever been, elated at the thought that he had put that soft look on Rodney’s face, even his voice was soft as he spoke of the man he loved.  “I’ve only seen him a few times.  We’ve never even spoken...we just exchange goofy looks.”

John couldn’t breathe.  Thankful that Rodney had is back to him, that he couldn’t see the look on John’s face that he couldn’t hide, the utter devastation.  _It wasn’t him.  Rodney didn’t love him_.   He wanted to put his hands on his knees and breathe to alleviate this sudden tightness in his chest that was just suffocating; he wanted to lie down so his legs would stop shaking.  It felt like his whole body was shaking, but it wasn’t just his body, it was his entire world.  _Of course it wasn’t him, of course Rodney didn’t love him.  How could he have ever been so stupid as to believe it would ever be him!_ Pain like a physical being that twisted inside of him, that punctured his heart and lungs causing agony throughout his body so intense that breathing became hard. 

He pulled himself together, pushed the unbearable, crippling pain away, taking deep silent breaths.  Rodney started to turn back to him and John turned away, knowing he couldn’t hide the anguish on his face just yet, “Why are you telling me this?” John asked, _why are you torturing me like this,_ he thought, proud that his voice didn’t give him away when all he wanted to do was scream at the sky that it wasn’t fair, that of all the things this scar had robbed him of, why did it have to be Rodney?

“He works for you, Cameron Mitchell.”

Cameron Mitchell.  The very man he didn’t hit only hours ago.  How he wished he had that to relive, knowing what he knew now.  He closed his eyes, centring himself, knowing he couldn’t stand with his back to Rodney for long; the guy liked eye contact when he spoke and John couldn’t hide forever.

Rodney was still talking, and never realised that each word was like shards of glass, “What’s he like?  No, don’t tell me, I’ll discover it all myself, let it unfold.  Since you’re working with him, maybe you could encourage him...”

_Encourage Cameron to seduce the man he loved._ _  
_

“He may not say anything all summer and then I will be gone.”

John blinked his eyes, hoping they didn’t show the unimaginable loss he was feeling inside, before he turned to Rodney with a tight smile, “If it comes up,” he said, utterly thankful that his voice didn’t betray him but glancing away again, least his eyes did.

“John, thank you,” Rodney said so heartfelt, looking a lot more relaxed.  “I know I’m forward...” he shrugged and then seeming to think it was all taken care off he changed the subject, “You were really great the other night.  I have never seen anyone be that brave before.”

“Oh, I’ve been a lot braver since then,” John answered in a small voice followed by another tight smile.  Everything was tight, struggling to control every movement, every expression and every emotion.  “Well, we’d best be getting back to town, I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

“Oh, of course and thanks again, John,” Rodney said, his eyes sparkling in anticipation of his romance with Cameron.

John just nodded and turned away, heading back into town, leading the way so Rodney couldn’t see his pain.  For the first time since his mom died, he wanted to cry, but grown men don’t cry, especially over such stupid things as shattered dreams. He still felt like it though.


	7. Chapter 7

  
  


John couldn’t believe he was doing this, couldn’t believe he was stood here telling another man that Rodney wants them over him.  Well he’s not exactly, he doesn’t mention himself at all, or the fact that he would have given the galaxy for a chance like this, without a thought, in the blink of an eye if only someone would please, please, offer him the chance too.

He was so depressed when he’d finally got home last night, hell, he’s not too happy this morning either, but he loves Rodney so damn much that if this is what he wants then John will get it for him.  He doesn’t think that Cameron deserves Rodney, but he finds the guy so damn amazing that he doesn’t think anyone on earth deserves him so maybe he should just let Rodney choose instead, and he has, hasn’t he?

So here he was, with Cameron, stood where the practice yard meets the street, keeping one eye and half his mind on the crew he was trying to train and the other half on this conversation from hell. 

“He was hot, I saw him in that bar,” Cameron was saying, his eyes shining.

“He’s interesting too,” John added, just to get the point across that Rodney was so much more than that.

“Yeah,” Cameron agreed, “Did you see his ass?”

“He also has a sense of humour,” John adds dryly, hoping Cameron can see that Rodney is more than a slab of meat, even if he does have to agree that the ass is really something.

“He wants to meet me?  I can’t believe this; God, my third day here and already...He’s smart, too.  Astrology,” he said smugly, like he’s the one who got Rodney his brains.

“Astronomy,” John said shortly, remembering to re-plaster the smile on his face.

“Yeah, right.  God, we’ll meet, really?  So, what do I do?  How do I meet him?”

John frowned at him, he could tell Cameron to go seduce Rodney but he’s damned if he’s going to tell him exactly how to do it as well. “How about you walk up to him and say hello?

“No, then I would have to talk to him,” Cameron said with that big white smile of his, as if that makes perfect sense.

“What are you talking about?”

“Around you guys I can relax and be myself...I’m funny, you know that,” Cameron said as he gave John a fake punch to the chest.  John raised an eyebrow at him, not quite sure how to respond but luckily he doesn’t have to as Cameron just steam rolls on ahead, “But around men I like, I just get a little nervous.”

John wanted to just roll his eyes and walk away right now.  He could tell Rodney he tried and it’s not his fault that Rodney finds idiots appealing, but he can just see Rodney’s face when he tries so instead he says, “Okay, get his telephone number and call him.”

“Pass.  Then I would have to talk to him,” Cameron said with a smile that implied he thinks John’s the slow one.  “I wanted to talk to him really bad... but I didn’t because that is how I would have talked to him; bad.”

“So every time you meet a man with brains, and looks, and a nice ass you will turn around and run?”

“That’s a great idea, it’s brilliant,” he said chuckling, like it’s no big deal that he could miss out on a date with Rodney because of this, “and it’s the same with woman too, by the way.”  He suddenly panicked and looked around him, sighing in relief when all he saw were four OAP’s heading their way, “but don’t mention that last bit to Cadman.  She thinks I’m totally gay and I’m not about to tell that man eater any different.”

The four old ladies had reached them, all decked out in sports gear and each carrying a tennis racquet, and John heard one of them grumble to the others, “It’s a dumb game; why do we play it?”

“Tough game?” he asked them, mainly just to give himself a break from the inane conversation with Cameron.

“We haven’t played yet, we’re on our way there,” the lady nearest him growled at him, and all four of them glared at him as they passed as if it was his fault they had to go play tennis.

He shook his head at them and then turned back to Cameron with renewed vigour.  He was going to do this.  _Rodney was going to get his man, even if it was the wrong damn one_.  “Do you know what ‘Carpe Diem’ is?”

“Some kind of fish?  Fish bait?” Cameron asked, with a hopeful look on his face.

Sheppard glared at him, actually glared before he shook the frustration loose, “What? No, no, it’s Latin.  It means, ‘Seize the day’.  There may be no tomorrow, so do it now.  Seek life now, while you have the chance,” and John’s voice had dropped low and intense and he’s aware he sounded like an ad for an adventure holiday but Cameron was buying it, he can see the sparkle in his eyes getting brighter, but worse still is that he’s buying it too.  Why not seize the day, he hasn’t told Rodney how he felt, maybe he should try acting on his own advice; maybe he should give Rodney another choice apart from Cameron.

“You think I should go after Rodney?”

 _No, I don’t want you anywhere near Rodney._ “No, I wouldn’t.  I would wait.  Mail him a letter or something.”

Andy appeared at his right, in full kit and sweating slightly.  “We’ve got all the junk piled in the practice yard, like you said, Chief.”

John cast a glance at Cameron’s retreating back as he walks into the station through the side entrance before turning back to Andy.  “Okay, light the thing, see how you do,” John said.  He watched Andy walk back to the other firemen and relay his orders.  Then he watched six grown men stand over a dry mattress, that probably still has the highly flammable label on it somewhere.  He watched them try to set fire to the pile of junk with a full box of matches each, and he continued to watch wondering how long he should give them before he wanders over and starts the damn thing himself.

He heard Cameron shouting him, “John, come here, I’ve got it!”

He walked into the side of the station to see Cameron knelt on top of the fire engine, waving the rag that he must have been using to polish the siren around his head and making moves like he’s a cowboy stripper about to lasso a client.

“You’ve got it all right,” John answered with a grin, the guy was like an exuberant puppy and John could never stay angry at the guy, even if he was the main competition for Rodney.

Cameron looked at him, “How to talk to Rodney.  I’ll take a chance.  The guy likes me, what am I afraid of?  He’s no rocket scientist.”

“Well, actually he is a rocket scientist,” John said apologetically with a shrug of his shoulders.

“But of all the guys, he likes me, right?” and to that John could only nod in agreement, feeling resigned to the fact that soon he would be seeing Rodney and Cameron inseparable.  “I’ll do what you said; I’ll write him a letter,” Cameron continued, his smile getting bigger and more confident, “I have a way with words.  I always crack the guys up.  This way I can plan what to say, I can craft it.  In a letter I can be whomever I god damn please.”

Andy appeared at his left again, “We can’t get it started, chief,”

 _Big surprise there,_ “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said to Andy, turning back to Cameron but the bright orange flames catch his eye as Andy turned and started to walk back into the practice yard, “Andy, your coat is on fire!”

Andy turned back to him casually, “Yeah, right.”

“So what do you think?”

“What?” John turned back to Cameron, behind him he can hear the guys shouting about Andy being on fire and getting his coat and someone shouting about passing the watering can and he relaxed slightly, “Oh yeah, the letter, yeah, great idea.” He turned back to his crew in the practice yard in time to see a guy picking up the gasoline can and making a bee line for Andy, “No, no, not the gasoline,” he was yelling, already running to intercept the idiot that decided he wanted to be a fireman.

He managed to get through the rest of the day without losing any fireman, or his mind which was more than he was expecting.   He was on his way home when he passed the chemist in town, he only glanced for a moment but the window display stopped him in his tracks.  He looked around him furtively and then realised that no one was going to think it suspicious if he went into a chemist, so he walked in.  He walked up and down the aisles until he found the section he’d spotted in the window; the makeup section.  He’d kept looking at it, wandered past and down another aisle, only to return again.  Teyla’s words replaying in his mind.  If he wanted to approach Rodney then maybe he should do his best to look normal.  He walked up to the counter, getting his story straight in his head.

“Can I help you?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, I have a friend who is looking for something, if it exists, sort of coverage type thingy.  To cover a… birthmark.”

“Oh, yes, to er....” John ignored the way her eyes flickered to the scar on his neck, “cover a blemish,” she concluded, as her eyes flicked back to his with an obvious effort.  She turned round to the display behind her and turned back with a small bottle and a small tin in her hand, “Foundation can cover a large amount,” she said putting the bottle on the counter, “and concealer can cover by itself or in addition to the foundation for a stronger coverage,” she finished, pushing the small tin to sit beside the foundation.

“Great.  How would...erm...how would she go about applying these?”

She reached to the side and grabbed a small bag of sponges in the shape of wedges, “With these.  If...erm... she dabs the area she wants to conceal, starting with a small amount and working it on until she’s happy.  She should probably practise at home till she gets the hang of it.”

“Great, I’ll take them both,” he said as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet.

It was at that point Rodney’s voice appeared at his right with a simple, “Hello, John.” He nearly had a heart attack.  He looked to his side to see Rodney frowning at his purchase as the clerk popped them into the bag.

“Hi, Rodney,” he more or less gasped as he turned back to the clerk he continued, after he steadied his voice, “could you wrap them up for me please, do you do gift wrapping here?”

The clerk sort of froze, like she couldn’t comprehend and he’d known then and there that she knew these were for him, but bless her she recovered admirably and nodded with a smile, “Of course, Sir.”

He turned back to Rodney and found curiosity burning in those blue eyes of his, “Do you have a girlfriend?” he queried.

 _God, he doesn’t want Rodney to think that he has a girlfriend, not if he wants to be considered in the running._ “No, it’s for my sister,” he blurted.

“You have a sister?” Rodney asked with a frown, probably John realised because of how he had told Rodney that there was just him and his brother.

“No, it’s for my sister’s girlfriend.” _Damn, he meant to say brothers girlfriend, brothers._ Luckily, the clerk had come out at that moment holding aloft a bag with bows sprouting out of it at all angles, which seemed to throw both of them for a minute as they stood there staring at the explosion of taffeta.  She dropped the gift wrapped make-up into a plastic carrier bag and once out of sight, the spell seemed to be broken.  “Thank you,” John said, handing over the cash.  

He could see Rodney out of the corner of his eye, with a raised finger.  The frown was still on his face and John interrupted before Rodney could ask him why he was lying about buying makeup and why he wanted it with all the pretty bows.  “I talked to Cameron for you,” John said as casually as he could as he took his change.

Rodney’s face cleared, like the sun after the storm.  Eyes clear and bright, frown replaced by a smile, as he followed John out of the shop, whatever he was in there for forgotten.  “Great.  So?  Is he interested, will he call me?”

“He wants to write you a letter?

“A letter?” he snapped in confusion, “Don’t you normally get Dear John’s at the end of the relationship?”

“You’re probably asking the wrong man,” says John smirking, “I get Dear John’s from the tax man.”

Rodney rolls his eyes, “Oh, ha ha, regular comedian today, aren’t we?  Well, I’ve had a few Dear John’s and let me tell you, there is nothing dear about them.  Should be called Spiteful John’s, it’s basically a way for the person who left to get the final word, and they’re never nice words.”

“I bet that’s the thing you hate most isn’t it?  Someone else gets the last word.  Anyway, it’s not a Dear John letter.  I actually think it’s quite romantic.  Taking the time to sit down and put thoughts and feelings into words, something that can become a keepsake, that can’t be taken back.”

Rodney looked at John with a smirk on his face, his blue eyes twinkling.  “What?” John asked, worried by this softer version of Rodney.

“You’re a romantic,” Rodney sneered.

“Oh and you’re not?  Everyone’s a romantic deep down.  Some only want to receive it and not give it, but everyone is a romantic.”

“Well, not that I have any experience in it, but I’m pretty sure I’m not a romantic,” Rodney scoffed, but John could hear the tinge of hurt in his voice.

“Everyone’s a romantic,” John said with conviction and a knowing smile.  “Where you going?  Fancy joining me for coffee?”

“Oh,” Rodney said in surprise as he stopped abruptly.  “I was getting my prescription for my epi-pens, and then I’ve got to get back to finish a discussion I’m having with Zelenka.  I’d better get back there, before they shut,” he continued worriedly, arms waving at the pharmacy.

“Okay, catch you later?” John said, ever hopeful.

“Doubt it, got to get everything sorted for my trip back at the weekend to check the telescope data that Zelenka is collating for me.  I might see you tomorrow, before I go.”

John watched him walk back up the street, until he realised he was stood on the sidewalk starring after McKay’s rear and made himself turn and continue walking home. 


	8. Chapter 8

  
  


As John entered his house he decided he would get a steak out of the fridge, he wanted to spoil himself a little. He got his cookware out and started creating. While the steak was cooking, filling the apartment with gorgeous smells, he brought a mirror from the bathroom and fished out the taffeta strewn box of makeup. He didn’t have anything else to do, so he may as well give this a go.  
  
Just as he was about to start the phone rang, he reached over and lifted the receiver from the cradle, bringing it to his ear. Even though he knew that Rodney didn’t have his number, he was still hopeful it might be him by some miracle, to say he was free for the evening. “Hello?”  
  
“John? I was wondering if I could come on over. I’ve written the letter and I’d like you to take a look at it before I send it, also I need his address. You doing anything at the moment?”  
  
“Hi Cameron, no, just cooking dinner. Come on over.” He hung up the phone. Cameron still lived at the station, which was far enough away that he didn’t have to rush. He cleared away the makeup, figuring he could try again later or the next night, making sure he put it well out of the way. No way did he want rumours circling the station that he wore makeup.  
  
He was just turning over the steak and stirring the sauce when there was a knock at the door. He walked over and let Cameron in, who was bouncing with energy. He really was like an overgrown puppy. He brandished the letter, like a proud mother showing of her child. His grin was as infectious as always.  
  
John had smiled as he’d reached out and took the proffered letter, “Hi Cameron. Come on in.” He led Cameron over to the kitchen table, and they sat down together.  
  
Mitchell looked around the room, “Nice place you’ve got here.”  
  
“Thanks,” John said before he looked down at the letter Cameron intended to send to Rodney. Bracing himself for the words he would see, wishing he had the chance to say them himself.  
  
He heard Cameron settle in, his exuberance clear in every move he made, “I think it’s really good,” he said, but John barely heard him. He wanted to send _this_ to Rodney?  
  
“Dear Rodney, how is it going? Do you fancy having a drink sometime? If you do, check this box.” John read out loud. He looked up at Cameron, expecting him to draw out another letter, to admit that this was a joke, but one look at his huge smile told him the guy was for real. _Jeez, I reckon Rodney would rather have a Dear John letter than this!_  
  
“How long did you work on this?” John asked slowly, starting to wonder if maybe Cameron was a little brain damaged.  
  
“Today, since noon,” Cameron answered smugly, and John could just tell that he’d thought that was a good thing.  
  
“Cameron, that’s a long time. You can’t send him this.”  
  
“Why not?” Mitchell asked with innocent curiosity.  
  
_Okay, diplomacy, I can do diplomacy_. “I like the concept, but it has to be more interesting.”  
  
Cameron looked at him like he was the idiot. “It is interesting, it has a check box. How many letters do you get that have a checkbox?”  
  
_Since I left the playground, exactly zero, thank God_. John got up and walked over to his writing desk, he took out a pen and paper and returned to the kitchen table and placed them in front of Cameron, “Let me show you what I mean. If I were to ask you how you felt about him? What do you feel when you see him?” He asked as he took the seat next to him, his mind already replaying the first time he saw Rodney, those eyes of blue like clear water with the reflections of the sun dancing on it.  
  
“Horny,” Cameron said, and then actually proceeded to start writing down that he felt horny.  
  
John shot out his hand, placing it over Cameron’s to stop him writing any more. “Okay, you can’t write that you felt horny, you have to change it,” he stressed as he released Mitchell’s hand. “You have to say something like...’I felt moved’...or ‘alive’ or ‘on fire’.”  
  
Cameron’s looked at him with something akin to awe on his face, “That’s brilliant,” he whispered.  
  
John continued, trying another tack, “How did you feel when you first saw him?”  
  
“Like a dickhead and that I was gonna hurl,” Cameron responded, his hand moving as if he was going to write that down as well, before John stopped him again.  
  
“No, you can’t write that. You have to say, ‘I felt like a child standing in the sun for the first time, feeling only your radiance.”  
  
“Radiance, yeah, I like that. I’ll underline that.”  
  
John doesn’t know quite how to respond to that so he chose to ignore it, carrying on, “What did you do after you saw him?”  
  
Cameron’s face fell, almost sulkily, “I hurled.”  
  
“After seeing you, my only nourishment was you,” John said. “That’s a bit to flowery for Rodney though, so you will have to make it more suitable to his personality. I think he wants the romance but not so much the flowery version,” John suggested. “Let him know that he’s cherished, but respected, make him understand how you feel.”  
  
“John, you write the letter,” Cameron said as he pushed the pad and pen towards John.  
  
“No,” John said adamantly, “you do it.”  
  
“You know how to say what I feel. You write it and I will sign it.”  
  
“No, no,” John said warily as he got up from the table and headed over the cooker to distract himself from the temptation, “That is....dangerous. Very, very dangerous. That’s lying.”  
  
“Not if you write what I feel,” Cameron whined as he walked over and manoeuvred John back to the table, “I sign my name and you write what you imagine I’m feeling. It’ll work.”  
  
“What I _imagine_ you’re feeling,” John repeated sardonically, not that Mitchell noticed.  
  
“It’s half written already,” Cameron added as he pushed the pad and pen in front of John,  
  
“You have to change that poetic baloney,” John said, distractedly, already organising prose and words into sentences that would touch the heart of Rodney, words that would touch deeper than anything Rodney had known. His words.  
  
“This is beautiful,” Cameron commented.  
  
“No, for Rodney you need something startling, something so strange it would make him incapable of being reasonable,” says John. _Capable of making him see past the ugly scars and into the heart beneath_ , he thought as he walked over to his desk and picked up his favourite pen and the good quality paper that made even a note to the milkman look like a royal invitation.  
  
“Can you do that?” Cameron asked with doubt in his voice.  
  
“It’s definitely a challenge,” John replied with a smirk, as he’d sat down at the table again, just as the pan spat reminding him of his dinner on the hob, “Oh, the food!” he exclaimed startled that he forgotten.  
  
“No, I’ll take care of it,” Cameron crooned softly as he pushed him back down into the chair and rushed over to check the steaks, turning down the heat. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. You just take your time.”  
  
And John did, caught up in his own feelings, of the excitement that Rodney would read this. Surely, he’ll know it’s from John, deep down he has to know these words are his, from his own heart to Rodney’s.  
  
xXx  
  
On the upper floor of the station, surrounding the pole, the guys were jumbled in a group, those at the back pushing, each and every one of them eager and excited. This is where they got to prove themselves and they obviously couldn’t wait. John was pleased with their eagerness, and Lorne reported that the night shift was also the same.  
  
“Just take your time,” he said soothingly, like he was talking to a bucking horse, “Now line up boys,” he said as he picked up the whistle and stop watch off his chest as he watched them jostle for position like school kids in the line at the sweet shop. He waited till they were as close to a line as they were going get and blew his whistle as he simultaneously pushed down the button on his stop watch.  
  
He’d watched them all make their way down the pole and move to their allotted positions within the station, following them down. He waited till everyone was in place before he blew the whistle a second time and stopped the watch and everyone fidgeted in their place, looking at him eagerly. “Six and a half minutes, not bad,” he said, not really having the heart to tell them it should be half that by now. They were all congratulating each other when he swept a hand up and over his shoulder. “Let’s get into our gear,” he shouted over the top of their cheers, which they all responded to with broad grins, it really was like directing children.  
  
He waited patiently while they’d gotten into their gear, he hadn’t timed this yet because it was just way too depressing. When they were finally done he tried to get the excitement back, “Let’s go boys. Its operation Snowball,” he said with a punch in the air.  
  
They all reacted with big grins again, yelling, “Snowball!” and punched the air themselves as they all ran past him, obviously too excited to remember they had a big red gleaming fire truck.  
  
“Guys!” he shouted after them, getting even more depressed when they all turned back to him without a clue, “take the truck?” he suggested in his best ‘Doh’ voice. They filed past him again, a lot more sheepish this time as they all piled into the truck one by one. There was still one or two that needed help getting into the truck. _Operation Snowball!_ He repeated in his head again with false cheer, trying to cheer himself up now as he watched the truck pull away without him. He should call them back but he’d been thinking a nice walk to the location might put him in a better mood so he put his hands in his pockets and wandered there under his own steam.  
  
He walked up the final hill, wondering where the lads were. He’d been expecting them to pick him up on the way back, but they still hadn’t been by yet. As he neared the crescent of the hill, he could see why. He stopped to take it in, even as bad as they were, he never expected this.  
  
Earl had his arms out in front of him, bent over and leaning against the waist high wall, hyperventilating slightly, and as red as an English post box. Above the wall was the raised garden of Mrs Nocromer who rang them, and above Earl stretched the branches of the tree in which her little cat Snowball got herself stuck. Hung from one of the branches by his braces was Fred, no longer bouncing which just really showed how long he’d been hanging there, but he was still rotating in lazy circles, taking in the scene before him. There were a hundred calls for Snowball from six of the guys. Jacob was trying to claw his way along the branch above Snowball, while Geoff and Toby were holding a ladder, with Tony at its apex, stretching for Snowball the kitten, which was currently backed to the end of the branch and hissing at the huge fireman’s gloves that were trying to reach for her. Deebs was talking to Mrs Nocromer, more likely about her votes than about the kitten.  
  
John shook his head and walked up to the base of the tree, just as Jacob fell out of it and landed with a loud “ooof!” in front of him, followed by a groan as he rolled onto his side and looked up at John with a depressed frown on his face. Fred was still circling lazily above him. John took out a tin of tuna from his pocket, then a can opener and he felt the eyes of every fireman on him as he calmly opened the tin and tipped it out onto the wall. He tapped the tin opener next to the pile of tuna, making a sharp bell sound, as he called out, “Here, kitty kitty kitty. Here kitty.”  
  
There was a combined moan from every fireman when Snowball dodged past the fireman on the ladder and rushed down the tree to sit peaceably in front of John and eat the tuna with a loud purr.  
  
Her owner gave a squeal of delight.  
  
He ordered the lads back into the truck and picked up the thankful Snowball in his arms. He took her up the steps and into the garden to put her into the arms of her owner who was smiling widely and there may even have been a tear in her eye which John had studiously ignored as the lads loaded themselves onto the truck behind him. She was still thanking him when he heard the truck start up behind him, “I have to go now Mrs Nocromer. I’m sure Snowball will be none the worse after her ordeal. Goodbye, Mrs Nocromer.”  
  
As he turned he’d seen the truck pull away and he rolled his eyes, so he guessed he’d be walking back to the station as well. Then he saw it and he started running, “Guys?!.....Guys!....The ladder is up!...Hey! ....The...Ladder....Is....UP!!!!” But he’d been too late and soon the truck had travelled out of view. He raced back to the station but when he arrived the firetruck was parked up fine, that is until he rounded the corner and stopped dead because the ladder had been sticking out the side of the building! He went back to the deceptively well parked truck and then returned to the outside wall again, he had no idea how they had managed that. He went off in search of the crew to discuss the failure of operation Snowball and maybe suggest they took the afternoon off from training and get some pizza’s in. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take.  
  
xXx  
  
They were at the rear of Rodney’s house, himself, Teyla and Rodney, all huddled around the telescope. It was dusk and the view from up here was amazing. Not to mention he was spending time with Rodney, which was always a good thing, he was very wary of Teyla’s attention though, hadn’t wanted to give anything away. Rodney leant over the telescope, rotating and focusing the lens as he said, “Let me show you a double binary, just focus with this.”  
  
John jostled in front of Teyla to look first, and maybe he’d got to the pathetic point where he wanted to place his hand where Rodney had and hopefully still feel the warmth left there. He was officially sad. He heard Teyla’s huff, “You’ll see it,” he said to her, “I’m on a schedule.”  
  
He could hear Teyla’s smirk when she responded, “Rodney, what is a light year?”  
  
John couldn’t help himself and answered before Rodney did, “Same as a regular year, it just has less calories.”  
  
He straightened up and grinned at her. She shook her head at him with a smile but didn’t respond as she bent over the telescope to see the nebula for herself, “What is it?”  
  
“It is two pairs of stars revolving around each other,...but so far away from us, that they look like one,” Rodney answered, the gleam in his eye that he always got when he talked about the stars.  
  
“What keeps them together?”  
  
“Mutual attraction,” Rodney responded and there had been something in his voice that made John look at him, something that made him smile.  
  
“That is fairly romantic,” Teyla commented innocently.  
  
“Rodney isn’t a romantic,” John challenged, “are you Rodney?”  
  
Rodney actually blushed, “I think I might be persuaded,” he replied before he continued, quoting, “...the light of a thousand galaxies blinking out and burning in rebirth, this is the light I see sparkling in your eyes, brighter than the sun. It’s bright enough to capture my heart and hold it captive amongst the stars, where no other mortal but you can reach it.”  
  
Teyla just frowned at him in curiosity, “Is that a quote? Who said that?”  
  
“I want to repeat each word like a passionate kiss that I will whisper against your lips,” Rodney continued.  
  
“Rodney?” Teyla questioned again.  
  
Rodney actually blushed and looked away, “Sorry, it’s something from a letter I recieved...an amazing letter.”  
  
“You liked it?” John asked as warmth spread through him, his words had touched Rodney just as he’d hoped.  
  
“No, I loved it,” Rodney enthused.  
  
“Whose letter?” Teyla asked, frowning between the two of them now.  
  
“Cameron,” Rodney answered simply, but the smile on his face and the sparkle in his eyes had said so much more.  
  
“He can write?” Teyla asked and John’s not sure if she’d meant, ‘He can write?’ or ‘He can write words like that?’ but he’d been too busy falling back down with a bump because Cameron was getting the credit for making Rodney feel like that when it was all him.  
  
“Oh, yeah. He can really write,” Rodney replied, still blushing profusely and then seemed to get flustered and distracted himself by turning back to his trusted telescope. “Let me show you that dumbbell nebula.” Rodney said as he leant over the telescope, rotating and refocusing, speaking as he went, face buried in the lens of the telescope with one hand waving in the air. “There is something I don’t get...The guy dodges me for days, so I think, okay, he’s not interested. Then John tells me of the letter...so I figure it’s about why he won’t talk to me. But it’s not. It was strange and... Intelligent... and sexual.”  
  
“Why is he writing? He only lives a block and a half away.” Teyla asked suspiciously.  
  
Rodney shrugged and they both turned to him as Rodney asked, “John?”  
  
“Do you want me to ask him out for you?” John responded jokingly, but the blood froze in his veins when Rodney just smiled and nodded affirmative.  
  
_Oh hell!_ John thought.


	9. Chapter 9

  
  


Cameron’s face bloomed into a suprised grin, “He wants a date? Really? John, it’s all because of you...” he started, breaking off to clutch at his chest as he drew in a great lungful of air that didn’t seem to help in the least.

“Hey, you okay? What’s the matter?” John asked, his face frowning in worry as he guided Mitchell to the other chair in his office.

“He wants to see me tonight! I can’t see him tonight!” Cameron said, his eyes wide in fear, head shaking adamantly, “I’m already a wreck.”

John looked at him in surprise, “You mean this panic attack is because you’re meeting Rodney?”

Mitchell nodded his head, eyes still wide in desperation. Maybe he does get how important Rodney is? thought John. Maybe he feels deeply for him too and if he cares that deeply then he should take care of him, protect him. Maybe he does deserve Rodney if he can see how special he is. “Okay, okay, relax,” John coaxed.

“You have to help me. If I talk to him, I’ll die,” Cameron said, fists clutching into John’s shirt.

“Okay, okay, damn it, calm the fuck down will you, you’re acting like a drama queen,” John snapped as he prised Cameron’s hands out of his shirt. “Die if I speak to him,” John muttered angrily as he made his way round to his own chair. “Calmed down yet?” he asked Cameron pointedly, whose eyes were still pretty wide but he nodded. “Okay, here is what we do: I will give you something to memorise,” John said encouragingly, trailing off at Mitchell’s response.

Cameron shook his head from side to side, without saying a word. John found himself shaking his head from side to side with a frown on his face as he tried to figure out what Mitchell was trying to say when he realised that he himself was still mimicking him. “Oh for heaven’s sake,” John muttered to himself, he gave another heartfelt sigh before turning back to Cameron. “Why can’t I give you something to memorize?”

“I can’t memorise,” Mitchell said as he shrugged, his face forming a physical apology.

“Anyone can memorise,” John said in disbelief. “Say the Pledge of Allegiance, you memorised that, right?” he challenged.

Cameron sighed. “I can say that here, but put me in front of Rodney and my mind goes blank. If I get stressed out, my memory is the first thing to go. I met a girl once who was stunning, she asked me what my name was and I couldn’t answer her,” he waved a hand over his head, “complete blank.”

John sighed, “We’ll think of something.”

“No letter this time? It has to be face to face?,” Cameron confirmed, obviously hopeful of an answer that differed to reality.

“No, no letter and yes, face to face.”

xXx

Mitchell bounded up the steps to the front porch of Rodney’s house. He was dressed in a green cotton shirt, with a black jacket and blue jeans that he wiped his sweaty hands on before he knocked, his nervousness obvious. He also wore a dear stalker hat in black that didn’t really go with his outfit. He kept glancing down the street at the white van parked a short ways down the road, that housed John, a pair of binoculars, a radio and a microphone. In his ear John’s voice sounded like a whisper, “Will you stop looking at me. Remember; you only have eyes for Rodney. I’m not even here.”

Mitchell nodded, “Okay.”

John sighed before clicking the microphone again, “And don’t talk to me. I. Am. Not. Here.”

“O...” Mitchell started and then just nodded. 

He was startled when Rodney opened the door with a shy, “Hi.”

“Do you want to sit outside?” Mitchell asked.

Rodney looked at the bench on the side of the large wooden porch as if it had offended him in some way, “You want to sit out here?”

“Yes,” Mitchell said, moving over and sitting on the bench, “We can sit right here under the stars.”

Rodney smiled, “erm..Okay.” He pulled the door closed as he stepped out onto the porch and sat next to Mitchell on the bench. “It’s a nice night.”

“Oh yeah. It’s nice.”

Rodney was frowning at him, “Why are you wearing that hat?”

“Why?... because...”

“Don’t panic, stay calm. I’ll think of something...,” John whispered in his ear. “...Because tonight I am a hunter.”

“Because tonight I am a hunter,” Mitchell echoed.

“A hunter?” Rodney queried, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Hunting for words that will capture your heart, the way you caught mine.”

Rodney’s eyebrows shot up and a blush crept up his cheeks. “I’m not used to all this romantic stuff. In fact I was making fun out of someone just the other day for being all mushy, but I find I do like it.” His arm pin wheeled in the air as he stuttered, “I like it when you say it.” His eyes flicked to Cameron and away again, self consciously. He turned back, ducking his head in embarrassment as he asked softly, “Am I your prey?”

“Yes, but not a defenceless one. Like Batman seeks Catwoman. Even though he knows she has the power to bring him down, he still seeks her out in the night, lured by things even he can’t fully understand. I may be the hunter but it is you who lures me.”

“Instruction: Move a little closer to him, and say, ‘Therefore I must approach softly toward you’,” John whispered in his ear and Cameron complied, putting his arm along the back rest and sliding in towards Rodney as he watched him draw near.

“Therefore I must approach softly toward you.”

“Instruction: Reach out your other hand,” John whispered in his ear, “and say, ‘Reaching out for you I hesitate, aware of the danger you pose to me...’.

“Reaching out for...Car three, proceed to the...”

Cameron couldn’t hear John banging on the radio or the swear words that filled the van down the street. If he had glanced at it, he may even have seen it rocking slightly in the background but Rodney asking, “What?” just blanked his mind to everything.

So desperate was he that he just repeated the words as they sounded in his ear before he realised it wasn’t John, “Confirm, car three, confirm.” The words fell from his mouth in a mumbled jumble.

“Did you say Carthrey? Confirm what?”

Suddenly John was back on the air, his voice whispering desperately in Cameron’s ear like a mothers promise, “Confirm my feelings. Confirm my feelings.”

“To confirm my feelings,” Cameron rattled out with a sigh of relief.

Rodney was looking at him with suspicion, “To confirm my feelings?” he asked, speculatively. 

“Yes,” Cameron confirmed, repeating John’s instructions to him as he moved closer again, “because there is a heart here that wants yours to know...there is a possible 520 on Main,” Cameron realised what he had said, the second the word ‘Main’ left his mouth and jumped up, closing his jaw on the rest of the message still crackling through the radio in his ear. He stopped at the top of the porch steps willing John to sort out the radio, praying that he wouldn’t be left here in the wilderness.

“You’re not a hunter anymore?” Rodney asked and each word dipped in sarcasm with an added little bite to it.

Cameron spun round, “Not a hunter? Oh, er No....I mean... it’s really nice out, isn’t it? It’s really, really...what’s the word I’m looking for? ...Nice, yes that’s it,” Cameron stammered, trying a winning smile that had got him laid on many occasions in the past.

“So, now you’re the weatherman?” Rodney snarled at him before lowering his head and taking a deep breath before looking back up at Cameron’s face, “I loved your letter. It was beautiful. Where did you learn to write like that?”

“The usual places,” Cameron said, moving around the porch with nervous tension.

“It seemed very extemporaneous,” Rodney commented, eyes following Cameron as he moved furtively around the decking.

“Thank you,” Cameron said shortly, not trusting himself to show that he obviously hadn’t written that letter, hell didn’t even understand half the stuff it said. He wasn’t dumb, but he wasn’t literary either, words just weren’t his thing. He was action, and he could prove himself in that area if he just managed to hold on a little longer till John got him out of this mess.

Rodney looked at him, “Say something wonderful, like in your letter.”

Cameron’s eyes flicked wide, “Erm...let’s see.”

“You could say something about the night,” Rodney prompted hopefully, “tell me in your own words.”

“The night....erm....the night is....is very... extemporaneous!” Cameron finished with flair and a hopeful grin that didn’t seem to be doing the magic it normally did as Rodney’s warm blue eyes dipped to an ice blue.

“What?”

“It’s inevitable!” John shouted in Cameron’s ear and he nearly fainted with relief.

“It’s inevitable,” he repeated. “Yes...the night is inevitable, like loving you is.”

There was only silence again. Cameron risked a quick panicked glance at the van to see it rocking slightly but the silence went on, “...Inevitable, yes,” he stretched, hoping John would be back with him shortly. As the silence stretched with nothing forthcoming he felt the need to fill the silence, “Inevitable and extemporaneous.”

Rodney’s face frowned on the last word, but cleared again as he spoke, a soft edge of exasperation to the words, “Say something else,” Rodney prompted.

“Why do birds suddenly appear, every time you are near?” Cameron said, suddenly remembering the song he heard on the radio on his way here. Just in case he brought out the magic grin again. His eyes were wide with hope. The things he did for a nice ass, this was probably the hardest he had ever worked.

Rodney was looking at him, clearly unsure, “Isn’t that from a song?” Rodney asked slowly.

“They made it into a song,” Cameron confirmed cautiously.

Rodney drew his head back sharply, eyes wide in surprise, “You wrote that song?” he exclaimed.

“No...But I like that song,” Cameron answered, grinning again but he had the distinct feeling it was starting to look a lot more manic than charming.

“Use your own words,” Rodney insisted.

“You have a great body....your ass cheeks, I mean your... your derriere is like a peach, no, not a peach.....like pillows....can I fluff your pillows?” Cameron asked with a waggle of his eyebrows which did not have the desired effect of boyish charm, which he blamed on the almost pleading desperate tone he couldn’t hold back at the end.

In fact, judging by Rodney’s horrified face this was not working at all. “Stop talking!” Rodney squeaked as he stood up sharply, “I...er....yes, yes. I definitely have to go in now,” and with that he gave one last look at Cameron which seemed to result in him shaking his head in bewilderment and then marching into his house and slamming the door, leaving Cameron stood on the porch.

“Wait! ...weren’t you playmate of the month in June?” Cameron shouted at the door, in one last desperate attempt. 

He heard a muffled, “Oh my god!” from behind the door and decided to take retreat before Rodney called the police. He backed down the stairs and into a furious looking John.

“Can I fluff your pillows?” John asked in tight exasperation, his voice unusually high.

“I got flustered, I panicked,” Cameron apologised. “You have to help me, it was working.”

John looked at him in disbelief, “I don’t think I can after that....Fluff your pillows? Seriously?”


	10. Chapter 10

  
  


As John turned back towards the van, Cameron grabbed him, a hand around each bicep and dragged him out of view of the house and away from the van. He held him steady and looked into his eyes, “Look, Rodney wants somebody who looks like me and talks like you,” Cameron said.  
  
John’s eyes widened in realisation, “Oh, no. I don’t even know how you talked me into doing this the first time. I’m going.”  
  
“No,” Cameron said as he dragged John down the side of the house, “come here. Seriously we were so close. I know you could do it. When he hears your words he melts.”  
  
And John melted at that, the curiosity was too much. Rodney had just witnessed Cameron in all his natural glory and had turned him down, walked away and slammed the door in his face. That meant that if he succeeded he would know that it was his words, his thoughts that reached Rodney and that looks were not the deciding factor. “Don’t make me do it,” John asked quietly, knowing he would not be able to resist, that he would be unable to walk away without knowing if his words could reach Rodney’s heart.  
  
Cameron smiled and looked into John’s eyes, “Together we can make him love us.”  
  
Even years later when John looked back at this moment he could only blame it on insanity as he smiled back at Cameron. A mischievous smile adorning his lips, “Okay, let’s do this,” and suddenly it was John pulling Cameron round to the rear of the house. He positioned Cameron, looking up to the bedroom balcony and back down again to line up the view. “You stand here and I’ll be over there out of sight. I’ll whisper to you what to say.”  
  
Cameron looked at John as if he was mad, “Wait. What if he hears you?” he asked in disbelief.  
  
John smiled at him, “Just trust me. Now call him.”  
  
Cameron seemed to be sizing him up before he took a deep calming breath and raised his eyes to the balcony, “Rodney?”  
  
Rodney stormed out on to the balcony, hands on the balustrade as he leaned over it to glare at Cameron, “Oh my god, it’s you! What do you want?!” he barked into the night.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Cameron called back to him, holding a hand out to him. “Just give me a minute, please? I have something I need to say.”  
  
“Go away,” Rodney snapped at him, but John could hear the pain behind the anger. Rodney was upset, not angry.  
  
“I just want to tell you that…”  
  
“I’m really well built?” Rodney interrupted. Spitting the words out, fully loaded with sarcasm but not enough that John couldn’t hear the defensiveness of it.  
  
“No, nothing like that,” Cameron glanced imploringly at John.  
  
“Tell him you were an idiot,” John whispered across the lawn at him.  
  
“I was an idiot, Rodney,” Cameron shouted up. Loud and clear and full of confidence but still too late as Rodney stalked off the balcony and back into his bedroom. “Wait, come back! I…” Cameron shouted up before trailing off and turning pleading eyes to John, who had left the wall in response, walking slowly over to Mitchell.  
  
“Help me,” Cameron whispered, just as Rodney came back out on to the balcony, causing John to hurtle himself back against the house out of sight. Rodney looked down at Cameron, his arms crossed, radiating disdain. “…want to say I was an idiot,” Cameron continued. “I was…” Cameron trailed off as he tried to figure out what John was miming to him. “Happy? Dizzy?” he whispered in confusion before giving up, “This is stupid,” he hissed.  
  
John pointed a finger at him with a smile.  
  
“Stupid!” Cameron shouted up to Rodney who responded by uncrossing his arms. Encouraged, Cameron continued, “I was stupid and I was also…” he frowned at John who was tripping over his own feet, “Tripping?... bumbling,” he finished as he realised what John was trying to say. “I was a stupid, bumbling…pointer,” he said as John pointed at him and only then realised it was in response to getting bumbling right and not a suggestion.  
  
Too late however, as Rodney frowned down at him, “Pointer?”  
  
“No, no,” Cameron said, while he watched John for clues, who was currently pointing to his ass. “Stupid ass,” Cameron finished.  
  
“So why did you say those things?”  
  
“Tell him you were afraid,” John whispered. He’d given up on the mime act as it had just made things worse.  
  
“Because I was afraid,” Cameron repeated to Rodney.  
  
“Of me?” Rodney shook his head, obviously discarding that idea the second it had appeared, “Afraid of what?” he asked.  
  
“Tell him you were afraid of words,” John hissed.  
  
“What?” Cameron hissed, trying not to move his lips so Rodney wouldn’t guess he wasn’t alone down here.  
  
“Words,” John hissed a little louder.  
  
“I was afraid of worms, Rodney,” Cameron shouted up to him. Not clear where this was going but trusting John, who had straightened up and stared wide eyed at him in disbelief.  
  
“Worms!?” Rodney exclaimed in confusion.  
  
“What are you saying to me?” Cameron hissed, as John piled into him, pushing him into the shadows of the trees.  
  
Cameron frowned at him but John was looking up, looking at Rodney bathed in the warm light flooding from his room, the starlight above him as a backdrop. He looked beautiful. “When I said ‘worms’, I meant ‘words’, Rodney.” He said in his own voice, warmed by his feelings, warmed by the thought that he was here, finally telling Rodney the words that had been stuck in his throat since he met him.  
  
“Give me your coat,” he hissed at Cameron who gave it over slowly. John whipped it from his hands and put it on, feeling the coat surround him in the shadows like a security blanket, making him bolder than he had ever felt before.  
  
“Words are all used up, hard to say. They have all been wasted,” he continued as he took Cameron’s hat off his head and pushed him further into the shadows as he donned it himself. Now he dared to step further out under the dappled branches of the tree, still not out in the open but not hidden in the shadows either. The openness, such as it was, making his heart beat in his chest as he continued, “on shampoo commercials and food labels that’s made them hollow. Beautiful words once, but how can you love a floor wax, how can I use the same words on you that’s used on a sound bite. You deserve better. I’m exploding with love, but cannot use the word.”  
  
“You sound faint,” Rodney said quietly, moving as he tried to see through the branches to get a better look at who was speaking.  
  
“It’s because words of love are soft, and my words have to rise up above my fear to reach you.”  
  
“You can hear me,” Rodney stated.  
  
“Because your voice floats down, one hard word from you at that height could kill me, you don’t realise the power you have over me.”  
  
“Your voice sounds different,”  
  
“It is, because I don’t have to be careful anymore. I am protected by the night. I can be myself Rodney.”  
  
“Stand where I can see you,” Rodney pleaded.  
  
“No!” Cameron shouted out, mouth closing with a firm snap at the glare from John.  
  
“Why?” Rodney asked.  
  
“Only my voice, you do not need to see me, just listen to me. I only have a minute to talk to you. Did the letter I wrote touch you?”  
  
“You know it did,” Rodney said, his voice soft with feeling. “It was eloquent.”  
  
“No, not eloquent, just honest. I am in orbit around you, I am suspended weightless over you like the blue man in the Chagall hanging over you in a delirious kiss, Rodney.” John sighed, “Rodney, a word of two syllables that’s locked inside my heart as it pounds out your name. You see I am… and I will always be the one who loves you without limits.”  
  
“What are you talking about? It’s too much,” Cameron hissed from behind him, as he pulled on Johns arm, breaking the spell.  
  
“Go on,” Rodney gasped breathily from the balcony.  
  
“It’s working, go on,” Cameron hissed, pushing John forward again.  
  
John was disorientated for a moment, until he looked up. He saw Rodney and everything else disappeared, “This is my whole life right now. Standing here talking to you like this. Saying things I’ve wanted to say, but couldn’t.”  
  
“Why couldn’t you talk to me?”  
  
“I was afraid you’d laugh at me.”  
  
“That’s silly,” Rodney admonished.  
  
“No, not if you knew. When you’re reaching for a star, Rodney, it’s a long way to fall. I almost never let this happen. Now I feel sorry for people who never feel this freedom. I love you. I have breathed you in and I am suffocating, intoxicated.”  
  
“I’m starting to feel a little drunk myself,” Rodney replied, happiness curled within the words.  
  
“Because I’ve touched you, haven’t I?”  
  
“Yes,” Rodney breathed.  
  
“I want to make love to you,” a voice shouted up from behind John.  
  
“Shut up, Cameron,” John hissed in anger like a fire inside him that Cameron should lower this to something singular like sex when it was about so much more.  
  
“What?” Rodney asked, sounding bewildered again.  
  
“I was telling myself to shut up because this time I have gone too far,” John spat out, the distaste clearly sounding on his tongue.  
  
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Rodney returned coyly.  
  
“He wants us,” Cameron hissed, anticipation in his voice. “It’s okay John, sooner or later. You can do it.”  
  
John didn’t even hear Cameron’s voice, forgotten the moment he looked at Rodney again. The night was quiet and it felt like they were the only two people in it. Just the light spilling from Rodney’s bedroom and the soft texture of Rodney’s voice as it fell down to him and him alone. The night felt magical and he felt like he could tell everything here and now, he called up to the man he loved, telling him his deepest secrets, “I’ve imagined you beneath me, imagined my fingers trailing across your skin. Have you imagined it to?”  
  
“I have,” Rodney admitted quietly.  
  
“There will never be another tonight where I have the courage to lay myself bare before you. Why should we sip from a tea cup, Rodney, when we can drink from the river? Just one tiny word and we can drink each other in, allow our bodies to say the things there are no words for. Say the word, Rodney and raise my heart up to the heavens. Set me free from these shadows, Rodney and say the word.”  
  
“Yes,” Rodney breathed. Just a whisper but full of surrender, the word fell down to John’s ears and his heart swelled. His fingertips tingled with anticipation, to feel that pale skin under them, to look into those eyes that finally saw him.  
  
He took a step towards the house, only to be caught by Cameron. “Great, we did it,” Cameron said as he took the hat back and donned it, spinning a bewildered John as he took back his coat and put it on and with that security blanket gone, the cold realisation of what he’d done came flooding back in. It hadn’t just been him and Rodney, it had been Rodney and Cameron. When Rodney heard those words, it had been Cameron’s face he pictured, Camerons lips that formed them.  
  
The magic spell was gone as he watched Cameron climb the stairs and enter the house, making his way up stairs to lie with the man John loved and it was John who made that happen. He had been so wrapped up in the freedom to say what he felt to Rodney that he had been blind to what the results would bring, the warmth that had flooded his system at that freedom now disipated and all that remained was a bereft coldness as realization hit him so hard he stumbled at the weight of it all.  
  
As he looked up to the lit windows of Rodney’s bedroom, laughter trickled down to him and he was right, words from that hieght could kill him, because the sound of laughter fell about him like shards of glass, splintering into his skin, still nothing compared to the pain of loneliness that weighed him down. Tears filled his eyes, _what had he done_ _?_  
  
He had to do something, but what. If he did anything himself then Cameron might tell Rodney the whole story and Rodney would never speak to him again. He would never believe that the words were true, that they came straight from John’s heart and were not just a means to trick him into sleeping with Cameron. No, if he was to stop this then he had to get someone else to do it without it being traced immediately to him. He checked his watch; if he hurried he might still catch them.  
  
He raced down the street and across the green, climbing the tree and checking his watch again. Just in time, he heard the old women walking across the green, swinging their tennis racquets from their late Friday night game. He took a deep breath and threw himself out of the tree.  
  
“Ooh, John, are you all right?” Lydia asked, “Did you hurt yourself?”  
  
“Where am I?” John asked, looking a little dazed as they helped him up.  
  
“In Nelson, where else?” Judith responded, taking a wary step back.  
  
“Nelson? I’m home. They brought me home. What day is it?”  
  
“Friday, ‘Dallas’ re-run is on,” Edna answered.  
  
“Friday? Then it took no time. It did not exist in time. I was walking home when suddenly a spacecraft landed right in front of me.”  
  
“I’ve read about them,” Edna interrupted as she pushed her way through the other ladies, stepping closer to John, “Did it have lights?”  
  
“Lights?” John queried and then went with it, “You’ve never seen so many lights. It was like Broadway. A creature with big suckers on his palms and long white hair and he walked like this.” John loped along, lifting his knees right up to his waist before stepping forward and holding his hands out to the side, making sucking noises as his splayed out palms bounced up and down. “He put his palm around my wrist and took me over to Rodney’s house to observe me.  
  
“At Rodney’s house?” Lydia asked in disbelief. She obviously hadn’t forgiven him for the shoe size thing yet.  
  
“This is bullshit, we’re gonna miss ‘Dallas’, let’s go.” Edna muttered as she walked past him. The other three following her, throwing strange looks at John as they passed.  
  
John racked his brain quickly on how best to hook them when the idea sparked, “They asked about older women, they wanted to have sex with them here in Nelson. They will start a colony of supermen who will have sex with older women because; “They really know what they’re doing.”  
  
“Oh we do, we do,” muttered Lydia.  
  
“It’s been so long,” muttered Mildred from the back.  
  
“Do you honestly believe that these creatures from outer space want to have sex with older women?” Edna asked.  
  
“But, what if it is true?” Mildred asked quietly and John could kiss her.  
  
The ladies were all looking at one another before Lydia said what they were all thinking, “Let’s go check it out.”  
John watched them go with a smile. He just hoped they weren’t too late. Maybe he should have just found some teenagers and told them Justin Beiber was in there.


	11. Chapter 11

  
  


John and Cameron sat on the low wall outside the town hall.  They were supposed to be there for a health and safety assessment of the preparations for the Oktober Fest but instead they were sitting on the low wall watching the chaos unfold.  John figured they would check everything out when the Nelson Community Ladies had finished arranging it.   In the meantime they were watching the proceedings, keeping an eye out for idiocy.  They’d already told Earl that he had to get down and move the ladder to the desired spot, rather than stretching and hoping gravity wasn’t looking.

“God, I was nervous last night.  I kept thinking I was going to say something stupid and ruin the whole thing,” Cameron said, before he turned to John, “I didn’t say anything though, I’m not that dumb,” he stressed.

“What do you mean nervous?  How nervous, exactly?” John asked, nonchalantly, not daring to look Cameron in the eye.

“Just real nervous,” Cameron said with a slight questioning tone to his voice.

“You mean so nervous you couldn’t ...,” John raised his eyebrows and waved his hand in the hopes Cameron wouldn’t make him say it out loud.  _...make love to Rodney in my place._

“God, come on, it’s embarrassing,” Cameron said, looking away down the street and didn’t see John’s relieved smile as he continued, “Look, I couldn’t do it the third time, alright.”

“Oh,” John decided as he shot up to standing before he realised there was nowhere to go, but he really needed to be away from Cameron right now.  He remembered something they could do that would put Mitchell on the other end of the high street at least.  He looked down at Cameron still sat on the wall, “Well, we better go look at this fest, it looks like they’re nearly finished.  Why don’t you start at that end and I’ll start at this end.  We’ll meet in the middle,” John said with a false smile.

“Okay,” Cameron agreed.  “Look, you won’t tell anyone about the third time thing will ya?” Cameron whispered with wide appealing eyes.

“Who me?” John asked, “No, I think I can honestly say that the information is going to be scrubbed from my mind as soon as humanly possible.”

Cameron gave a sigh of relief.  “Good, besides I blame the insane old biddies looking for aliens.  They want to check what they put in their coco round here.”

John kept the surprised smile of his face and swallowed the gust of laughter that threatened to escape, _bless them old ladies._ “Yeah, they’re completely insane, but harmless.  Right see you later,” John said as he ambled away.  Not in any set direction, just away from Cameron and his damn stamina and perfect skin.

He finished the walk through and grudgingly met up with Cameron who suggested going for something to eat but John didn’t think he would be able to eat a thing if Cameron brought up last night again.  “No, I’ve got some work to do back at the office.  You go on, I’ll see you when you get back,” John said with an easy smile before he sauntered back to the station. 

He was sitting in his office with a cup of coffee when he swore he heard Rodney’s voice down the hall way asking, “Is John in?”

He listened carefully and heard Andy directing Rodney to his office and within a minute he was bustling through the door. “Hi, I’m catching a plane in 40 minutes,” he huffed out, all his actions sharp and fast.

John stood up, scenarios where he’d never see Rodney again for varying reasons flashing through his mind, “Why?”

“I got a call from the university.  I was right about the comet,” Rodney said with that huge smile that killed John a little every time he saw it.

John’s whole body relaxed in relief, a full answering smile filling his face, “That’s fantastic!”

“I wanted to tell you first,” Rodney said, still beaming.

John felt warm inside.  He was tempted to ask why not his new boyfriend but didn’t think he’d be able to pull that off without his feelings showing all over his face so he just settled for, “Congratulations.  So, you’re famous now.”

Rodney just grinned at him before asking, “Is Cameron around?”

John felt like he’d been hit in the gut, right, of course he wanted to see Cameron.  “No, I haven’t seen him.  I think he’s still in town.”

“Could you tell him why I had to go?  I’ll be gone for about a week,” Rodney’s bluster ran out sharply as a blush took over his cheeks, “This is my address, ask him to write me?” Rodney asked, glancing at John.  “Ask him to bowl me over.”

“Sure, Rodney.  I can do that,” John said as he took the address from him, already knowing the temptation was too much and that he would be writing Rodney, telling him in ink the words stained on his heart. 

xXx

Across town Cameron had just finished his bar meal and made his way to the bar.  The pretty waitress ambled over, “A beer?” she asked, voice light with a lovely smile and a sparkle in her eyes.  Cameron nodded with a smile. 

“Draft?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I can just put on my sweater,” Cameron said, widening the smile, inviting her in.

She laughed, “That is so funny.  There are so many guys in here with no sense of humour.”

“I think a sense of humour is important,” Cameron agreed.

“I think it’s really important too,” she said with certain intensity in her eyes that Cameron had come to recognise from previous encounters.  She reached under the counter and pulled out a pack of cards, “A hand of low-ball for your drink,” she challenged, handing the pack over to him.

“What’s low-ball?” Cameron asked, sliding the cards out of the pack.

“You try to get the worst hand with five cards,” she said, still smiling, placing a hand on her hip which helped accentuate the small waist.

“Okay, a low-ball for a high-ball,” Cameron joked.

She really laughed this time, “You’re a riot.”  Her eyes fell to his hands as he dealt out the cards.  “You could be a dealer in Vegas.  I went to Tahoe with my girlfriend.  We’re moving there in 4 days.  They like young waitresses there; you can make big money.” She leant forward as she picked up her cards, “I heard one girl got a $50,000 tip from a lucky gambler.”

“Fifty grand!”  Cameron exclaimed as he scooped up his cards.  “That would be nice,” he agreed as he spread out his cards in his hand.

“When I get older I’ll move to Reno; they like older cocktail waitresses there,” she said in confiding tones.  “So what you got?” she added, nodding to his cards.

“I have a nine, a seven, a five, a three and a deuce,” he said cautiously.

“That is the worst hand I’ve ever seen,” she howled.  “You win.  One high-ball coming up.”

“Make it beer, draft,” Cameron said with a smile.  “Where you from?” he asked, unable to believe how relaxed he felt in her company.

“Albuquerque,” she answered as she pulled him a pint of draft.

“A-l-b-u-q-u-e-r-q-u-e…It’s an old bar bet,” he admitted sheepishly.  Jeez, showing off in front of her already.

“Wow, that’s really neat.  Do you know where I want to go?  San Fransisco.”  She brought the beer over and leant against the bar, arms crossed in front of her leaning, on the counter top.

“I’ve been there.  It’s great.  I’m really a 49ers fan, not so much the Giants.  The Redwoods though, you should see them, across the bay in Sausalito.  I used to like going out there and just be, you know?  I’d always take a meat sandwich with me.”

“It’s great you’ve travelled.  You’re interesting.”

“I try to be,” he said with ‘that’ smile.  “When you find somebody interesting, you become interesting to that person.”

She must have seen that smile before because the next words out of her mouth were, “I thought you were seeing Rodney?”

“Kind of, but not…”

“Yeah, I should quit talking to you, he’s a friend,” she said, but she didn’t move away and she didn’t stop smiling either.

“No, we can talk.  It’s not a problem,” he assured her.

“Next you’ll tell me you’ve been to New York,” she continued as if they’d never mentioned Rodney.

“I have been to New York,” he admitted.

“Jeez, I was just kidding and you really have.  Seriously, You’ve been to New York?”

“Seriously,” Cameron admitted.  He held out his hand, “My name is Cameron, Cameron Mitchell.”

She smiled coyly at him, “Yeah, I know,” but she took his hand anyway, “My name’s Sandy.”

“It’s good to meet you.”

xXx

Days had passed without Rodney but John was walking on air.  He’d always had trouble sharing his feelings, even before the accident but he’d been writing to Rodney every day, the freedom to write his feelings down on paper had been cathartic. He walked down the street posting yet another letter on his way to the bar. 

As he walked in the biddie four were just walking out, “Thank you for your help ladies,” he said as he passed them, ignoring the confused glances they threw his way as he made is way over to Teyla at the bar.

“What’s up?” Teyla asked, frowning at him.  She could sense the change in him and it was killing her, not knowing the how or the why.

“Nothing?” he said with a cocky grin.

“Want a drink?” she asked.

“Yes, but if I ask for one more…give it to me,” he said with a smile.

She chortled a laugh as she shouted down the bar, “Ronon, could you bring us a bottle of wine, please?”

“What can you sit on, sleep on and brush your teeth with?” John asked jovially, with a laughing smile.

Teyla smiled fondly at him, “I do not know,”

“A chair, a bed and a toothbrush, of course,” he answered with a roll of his eyes.

“Your wine,” Ronon said as he placed the bottle in front of John.

“Thank you,” John answered as he poured himself a large glass and drank deeply.

Teyla looked at him, really looked at him and then said somenly, “Sometimes the answer is so obvious you do not see it, even when it stands before you in the open.  The answer is simple; you should just tell him.”

“Tell who what?” John said innocently, not looking Teyla in the eye.

“Tell Rodney that you love him,” Teyla stressed frustratingly.

“Actually I already told him,” John said smugly, starting to wonder if the wine was getting to him because he shouldn’t have said that out loud really, but even while that thought was forming in his mind, another was falling from his lips, “Last week we made love.”

“You did?” Teyla asked, the joy clear in her face.  “That is great.  I am greatly relieved, John.  I did not think you would ever approach him.” 

“Well, it wasn’t actually me, it was sort of me... I mean it was me who said all the right things, made him feel the right way...It just wasn’t the actual me who did the actual... honours.”

They were interrupted by Cadman as she approached the bar in her uniform, “I’ve never seen it so dead in here.  You cook again, Teyla?” she asked with an eyebrow raised and a laugh on the edge of her lips.

John frowned at her, “Why aren’t you in furs tonight?”

“Cameron asked me to stand in for him, Rodney called; he’s coming back tonight and wants to meet up.”  Cadman looked around the bar as she spoke, scoping the people till her eyes settled on a guy further up the bar.  She turned back to John and Teyla to waggle her eyebrows before heading off after the guy with a smirk.

John’s eyes widened in surprise, “I have to tell him about the letters,” he exclaimed as he leapt up from his seat and ran out the door.

Behind him, Teyla looked around and realised she was now all alone, Cadman having gone hunting at the other end of the bar.  It was then she noticed the letter that John had discarded to the side on his entrance and forgotten on his hasty exit. She pulled it over to her and after a quick frown at the address on the front; she looked around and then gently eased out the letter from inside.


	12. Chapter 12

  
  


John ran all the way and up the stairs to the porch.  He rang the bell and then hightailed it round to the back door and into the kitchen knowing that Rodney would answer the door of his own house, leaving Cameron alone in the kitchen.  As he crept in through the back door, Cameron spun towards the movement.

“What are you doing here?” Cameron hissed with a nervous look over his shoulder towards the front door, as he approached John by the back door.

“There was no one there,” Rodney shouted in indignation as he made his way back towards the kitchen. 

Cameron bundled John out the back door so fast he fell over the banister and into the bushes.  The door jerked shut and Cameron turned sharply to meet Rodney with a wide smile, just as he entered the kitchen from the other side.  “What?” he asked innocently.

“There was no one there,” Rodney said, casting a frown back towards the front door.  He turned to Cameron, scooping up his wine glass as he approached him, the frown turning into a bashful smile.  He opened his mouth to speak when the doorbell sounded again.  Rodney huffed with frustration, “What is going on?” he snapped angrily.

“I’ll get it,” Cameron said with a smile.  Running hands over Rodney’s arms to calm him which earned him a grateful smile before he headed for the front door.  He opened the door and edged out onto the porch, careful not to let the door close behind him.  He hissed, “John, John,” as he searched each direction, before he gave up and went back inside.  .

Rodney had walked out to the hallway while he had been outside and greeted him with a smile and his wine glass as he walked back to him, stood in the kitchen doorway.  “Probably just kids,” he said, “Damn kids nowadays,” he said with a shrug.  As he took the wineglass, a movement over Rodney’s shoulder made him glance up to see John stood in the opposite kitchen doorway that led to the living room, his hands out to each side a shrug in his shoulders and a _I’m not quite sure how this happened_ expression on his face before he ducked back into the living room, just as Rodney took Cameron’s arm and led him back into the kitchen.  John must have been coming in the back, expecting to find Cameron.  Only he found Rodney and had managed to get into the living room while Rodney’s back was turned, looking for Cameron, who was out the front looking for John.

Rodney turned to Cameron, suddenly serious with a soft look of affection, “Guess why I came back early?” he asked, but Cameron knew John wouldn’t have risked this unless it was important and knew he needed to speak to him urgently so instead of answering Rodney he interrupted him.

“The door again,” Cameron said, turning Rodney towards the front door, “Maybe you should go this time.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Rodney queried with a frown over his shoulder at him.

“There it is again, I heard it.” Cameron said, with a gentle nudge to Rodney.

“There was no doorbell,” Rodney said flatly.

“Yes, there was.  You should go and answer it,” Cameron stressed with another nudge.

Rodney huffed in frustration and he put his wine glass down heavily on the side, the red liquid swirling against the crystal barely remaining in the glass, “Fine,” he said as he stomped of towards the front door.  Cameron ran to the living room as soon as Rodney was out of sight, grabbing John and shoving out the back door onto the porch.

“Not much time, what do you want?” Cameron hissed.

“He may mention some letters,” John hissed back hesitantly, “You wrote him a few letters.”

“How many?” Cameron asked, glancing quickly at the kitchen doorway.

“Three a day,” John answered sheepishly.

“Four days, times three...thats twelve letters,” Cameron hissed sharply in suprise as he spun back to John.

John gave a shrug in response, “Well, fifteen, actually,” he said without meeting Cameron's eye

Cameron, fully aware that Rodney could appear any second decided not to comment, instead asking urgently, “Anything else I need to know?”

John looked at him for a second, before shaking his head, “Okay, “ Cameron said, “now get out of sight quickly.”  He turned back to the hallway as he closed the back door, just in time to see Rodney re-entering the kitchen.

“No one there,” he said sulkily as he looked up, frowning to find Cameron by the back door.

“No one there either,” Cameron said, “I thought maybe it might be a trick to get in the back and steal something while we were at the front, but just my imagination running away with me,” he said with an easy smile, walking over and meeting Rodney halfway by the worktop island in the middle of the kitchen.  He swooped up Rodney’s wine glass handing it over with a smile, “Only us here now,” he said as Rodney took his glass and Cameron took his up, tipping the wine glass to Rodney’s with gentle ‘chink’ and smiled seductively at him..

Rodney smiled back, his face full of soft affection again, “Cameron..do you know why I came back early?  Every day, every quarter you sent me something new, something that told me how you felt, how you understood me like no one else.  I finally realised I couldn’t stand to be away from you anymore.”

“It was just letters... fifteen or so,” Cameron admitted distractedly while  he ran his hands up Rodney’s arms again, sweeping over his biceps to rest on his shoulders thumbs rubbing his neck softly.

“Think of what you wrote,” Rodney said, a touch of awe in his voice distracted as he was by Cameron's thumbs on his neck.

“I’m trying,”Cameron said, only then realising the harshness of his tone and softening it with a smile, “You're very distracting,” he added, as he leant in to kiss Rodney’s neck.

“Wait,” Rodney said softly, pushing Cameron back and looking him in the eyes intently, “I want to know the real you, the one I spoke to at the window.”

“No!,” Cameron snapped in frustration, calming down instantly when confronted with Rodneys eyes widening in surprise. “This is the real me, good old Cameron,” he whined, “I like hanging out, lifting weights,” he lifted his tight grey marl t-shirt, patting a hand against his  tight, tanned abs, going for distraction, “I keep fit,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Rodney smiled ruefully as he tugged Cameron’s t-shirt back down, “You don’t have to do that with me.  As,” Rodney looked Cameroon’s body over from head to toe, “impressive as your body is, its not the only reason I’m with you.  I fell in love with you that night, you don’t have to hide from me, let me in.  Allow me to know the you from your letters.”

“Isn’t it just enough that I’m cute?” Cameron asked with a sly grin, weaving infront of Rodney’s hands, trying to swoop in for a kiss.

Rodney looked intensely at him, “Don’t you see, it wouldn’t matter if you were ugly.  Tell me about the things you’ve seen, I love seeing things through your eyes, tell me about you,”

“I can play the guitar a little,” Cameron said, almost desperately.

Rodney frowned a little, but carried on regardless, “I want to go to concerts with you, talk with you, and understand the man in those letters that I fell in love with.”  Rodney led Cameron over to the kitchen table that he and John had sat down at that first night, “We’ve got the whole night, why don’t we just sit down and talk, get to know each other.”

Rodney sat down at the table but Cameron remained standing, his hand still in Rodney’s.  He stared down at his hopeful face and realised that Rodney wanted more than he could give, and he knew there was someone waiting for him who wouldn’t ever expect more than he was willing to give, “Rodney, I …,” but he couldn’t say it.  Not to those blue eyes, “...I’m feeling...,” _out of my depth, drowning in your expectations,_ but he couldn’t  get the words out,  instead he panicked, “I’m not feeling well,” he said instead as he dragged his hand out of Rodney’s, “I have to go,” and with that he turned tail and ran.  He didn’t stop till he reached Sandy.

“So?  Are you coming or not?” Sandy said as she threw the last of her luggage in to the back of the car.

“Yes,” Cameron said, never so sure in his life.

“Did you tell him?” Sandy asked.

“I couldn't,” Cameron said, as he dropped his head, unable to look her in the eye.

“Cameron,” she said as she lifted his head , so his eyes met hers, “You have to, Cameron, it’s not nice to just disappear.”

He tried to look away until the idea popped in his head out of nowhere, “Do you have any paper?  I could write him, explain it all.  I have experience with that,” he said, pulling out that smile.

“I have some in my glove compartment, I’ll get it,” she said with a rueful grin.

xXx

John walked into the station, with his morning coffee, but as soon as he walked in Andy came out to meet him,  “Rodney called.  He sounded really weird, he wants you to go over right away.”

John frowned, “Okay, I’d best head over there.  Everything okay here?” he asked

“Yeah, sure,” Andy said, waving him off.  “Go check on Rodney.”

John walked quickly over to Rodney's, checking his watch as he went.  Half five in the morning?  What could be the matter at this time of the morning.  He knocked on the door, full of foreboding.

Rodney answered the door and John checked him over for injuries, even as he spoke, “Andy said you wanted to see me?”

“Come in,” Rodney said, no welcoming smile and John’s stomach felt heavy.

“What is it?” John asked as he followed him into the kitchen.

Rodney swiped a piece of paper off the side and handed it over to John, “Read it?” Rodney instructed, crossing his arms defensively.

John frowned at him and then looked at the piece of paper, “Out loud,” Rodney stated.

“Dear Rodney,” John started, “I have met someone else, and I can talk to her without feeling sick.  I don't think I’m what you want. I hope I haven’t hurt you, but I probably did.  It was really nice knowing you, and now I am going to be a dealer in Tahoe.  Yours Truly...Cameron.” John finished.  Looking at the little block capitals, the lack of comma’s and the lack of feeling that his letters carried.  He knew where this was heading and he was starting to feel sick.

“Then I found this along with it under the door,” Rodney said, as he flourished another letter, this one John recognised as one of his, “”Read it out loud,” Rodney said.

John glanced at him but couldn’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, so he just took the letter and started to read, “All day long I think, ‘Where is he, what is he doing now?”  John trailed off because he recognised this one, he hadn’t sent this to Rodney. He hadn’t even finished it yet.  He started to rack his mind, trying to figure out how Rodney got it.

“Carry on,” Rodney said.

“Oh erm...” he stalled, before he realised there was no way out of this so he took a deep breath and carried on, “I remember everything about you, every move no matter how insignificant it may seem, and I miss every nuance of you.”  Without even realising it, John’s voice changed, the feelings he had felt when he wrote those words seeping into his voice now, turning it to warm chocolate, hesitant but truthful the words fell from his lips as easily as they had from his hand when he wrote them, “the way your smile breaks like the sun through the clouds and I can feel the warmth of it.  The way your eyes catch the light when you describe something in your heart and I wonder if they’ll ever shine like that when you talk about me.  The thought that I might touch you like that fills me with warmth, because I want only your happiness.  I try to remember my life before you but the memory has faded.  There is nothing before you, and everything after you.  I live for a glance from you, for the softness in your eyes and the fondness of your voice.  You are master of a heart that loves you...” John trailed off, as the words ran out, looking back to Rodney, shrugging in place of words he couldn’t find.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Rodney asked, but there was a bite to the words that belied the smile and the words.

“It... er... it has a,” John started, fumbling to find something, anything.

“Finish it,” Rodney interrupted.

“I did, it just runs out,” John said, unable to look away.

“You have to turn it over,” Rodney said.

John frowned, knowing that was all he had written, he looked down as he turned the page over, “John wrote this, ring me...Love Teyla.”


	13. Chapter 13

  
  


“I went through all of the other letters. They are all in the same hand. It was your voice under the balcony that night. Cameron did _not_ write the letters, you did,” Rodney snapped, his words like steel.  
  
“Yes...” John admitted.  
  
“All this time, it was you right there in front of me, and I didn’t see it. You bastard! How could you trick me like that?”  
  
“I tried to give you what you wanted,” John said sullenly.  
  
“I went to bed with a stranger, because you made me believe he was so much more. You played me.”  
  
“You’re the genius, you should have guessed it,” John snapped, suddenly furious at the memory that Cameron had tasted Rodney’s kisses.  
  
“So, it’s my fault?” Rodney asked in disbelief.  
  
“The first signature doesn’t match any of the others,” John pointed out with a sneer.  
  
Rodney looked at him like he was mad, “You don’t go comparing signatures on love letters, John, no matter how paranoid you are, and believe me I’m normally really paranoid.”  
  
John’s face contorted into a sneer, his voice tinged with bitterness as he retorted, “You didn’t see it, because you didn’t want to see it. All the romance wrapped up in a cute body, with a cute smile and perfect skin. You met me first but you didn’t even see me, but him you saw from the first moment and you wanted him,” he slapped the letter back into Rodney’s hands, “and you wanted this to be him. You made your choice.”  
  
Rodney scrunched the letter up in his hand and held it up between them like evidence. “I chose the man who had the guts to tell me how he felt, not to hide in plain sight. You can say the words on paper but you can’t say them to my face? You even got me in bed!”  
  
“Yeah, how about that?” John exclaimed in disbelief, “on your first date!” John shouted.  
  
“Only because you seduced me,” Rodney shouted back indignantly.  
  
“You still went to bed with him pretty damn fast. A few frilly words and you’re horizontal, counting ceiling tiles,” John snapped, his voice sharp and mean.  
  
“I didn’t go to bed with Cameron,” Rodney said sternly.  
  
“Well,” John huffed bitterly, “Someone was up there and it sure as hell wasn’t me!”  
  
“Then who? Cameron certainly wasn’t capable of seducing me. You, you son of a bitch! You bastard! How could you lie like that?”  
  
“I just couldn’t tell you they were from me, but it wasn’t a lie, the words were true,” John stressed, words spilled out in anger. “I tried to tell you how I felt.”  
  
“It was a lousy way of telling me! Do you have any idea how violated I feel, do you understand that what I thought of as a beautiful thing, turns out to be that I was tricked into sex with a stranger,” Rodney’s blue eyes shone with unshed tears, the pain of them clear, until they chilled to a cold blue steel, “Just get out!” Rodney shouted as he pushed John back into the hall way. “I thought I wanted to hear your excuses but there aren’t any for what you did,” he seethed as he pushed John again, back out the front door, onto the porch.  
  
He slammed the door in John’s face. John placed his forehead against the cool glass, all anger gone in the face of Rodney’s pain. “I’m sorry,” he shouted through the glass, “I knew it was wrong, but I also knew that here was a chance for me to tell you how I felt, to say the words that caught in my throat every time I tried, because I knew you’d never look at me the way you looked at him.”  
  
John relaxed his head to the side, so his cheek was against the glass. He brought a hand up to rest near his face, palm also against the glass as if by touching this pane he was touching Rodney, gently and reverently. He closed his eyes against his own emotions, his voice falling slightly now that the anger was gone, “In the beginning I thought you’d seen past the scars,” he admitted with a lump in his throat, “but Cameron made me see that was just wishful thinking,” he finished bitterly, derision at himself for ever thinking it could be otherwise.  
  
“I thought you wanted him, it’s what you asked me for, that day on the hill... that day when you broke my heart,” John admitted, his voice cracking as he remembered how he’d hurt that day. “I thought you were getting what you wanted. I only ever wanted you to be happy, even if it was not with me, I just wanted you to be happy,” his voice trailed off.  
  
Rolling his head back so his forehead was back against the glass, his eyes still closed, the eyelashes wet with unshed tears, “ I’m sorry I hurt you, I would never do that,” he stressed with intensity, “I meant what I said that night, under the balcony. I am, and always will be, the one who loves you without limits.” John took a deep breath, about to do the bravest thing he’d ever done. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m here now and I’m asking Rodney.”  
  
Even now he hesitated, but he’d already said so much, what was one more thing, even if it was the thing. “Can you ever love me?” he asked, his heart thumping in his chest as he took a step away from the door, out onto the porch, feeling like he was stepping into the middle of the wilderness, alone and defenceless. He watched the door but nothing happened. He dropped his head, scrunching his eyes closed against the heat of the tears already gathering in his eyes, swallowed against the thorns in his throat. Everything just felt so heavy as his body sagged in defeat. He knew it, all along he’d known. But this cold desolation, he hadn’t known it would hurt like this.  
  
He gave one more valiant try, swallowing against the pain. Taking a deep breath to steady his voice, “Ten more seconds and I’m leaving,” John called, although his heart wasn’t in it, but then he heard the door opening and he looked up sharply, eyes wide in surprise, the faint ember of hope in him.  
  
“What did you say?” Rodney asked.  
  
“Ten more seconds and I’m leaving,” John said, curiously.  
  
“Oh,” Rodney said, deflating somewhat and then went to close the door again.  
  
“Wait,” John said sharply, “What did you think I said?” he asked curious to know what could have brought Rodney out here when John throwing his heart at his feet obviously hadn’t.  
  
“Earn more sessions by sleeving,” Rodney mumbled.  
  
John frowned at him, “That doesn’t make any sense.”  
  
Rodney glared at him, “I know,” he snapped, “That’s why I came out here,” and then the door was slammed in his face again.  
  
John paced, not that he was expecting Rodney to come out now but he had to give this his all. Inside his head he counted down.. _.ten...nine...eight_. He shrugged his shoulder, without seeming to realise it. _Seven...six..._ he shrugged his shoulder again, this time registering the heat in it. As he turned the heat dissipated and he stopped counting, turning again and sensing the heat again. Curious he walked in that direction, feeling the heat grow, and then like a time lock the memory opened and he remembered when he’d felt that weird feeling before. He started running.  
  
He loped into the station, only to be met by Andy, “Cameron came and got his stuff,” he said hesitantly.  
  
John waved him off distractedly. “There’s a fire somewhere,” he said. “Get the guys geared up and follow me.” He went to the road and turned directions, getting it clear in his mind while the guys got geared up behind him. Within record time they were in full gear and in the truck. He nodded in appreciation and waved them out as he walked down the street, the red fire truck gleaming orange in the early morning light.  
  
He led them and they followed until he didn’t need his freaky heat seeking shoulder anymore. He could hear the fire, spitting and crackling, and he broke into a run, ordering the truck to a halt behind him as he stood looking at the huge wooden barn as flames licked out of it.  
  
“That’s where I’ve got Bossy,” Deebs shouted out in worry.  
  
“Well we better get working then. We’ve got a burner, boys. Get the two inch lines from the pump to the fire. Get the three inch lines” he pointed over to the yellow fire hydrant, “from the hydrant to the pump. If it gets to the pump station the whole town will go. We need to contain it boys, and fast.”  
  
The guys were moving fast, just like they’d been trained over the last month. The fire hydrant was already pumping water into the truck. The guys just laying out the pipes to the fire, about to pick em up.  
  
“You’re doing good boys. I want a water curtain with a full fog pattern on both exposures,” he shouted as he directed with his hands.  
  
He could hear the guys chanting _one, two, three..._ under their breath as they danced with the hoses, one team on each side of the barn. Deebs shouted up, “We’re doing it, Chief. We’re really doing it.”  
  
John smiled in return, he saw one of the guys leading out Bossy the cow and tying her up securely behind the truck before joining the rest on the hoses. They worked hard and eventually they got the fire under control and working diligently, managed to put it out without it spreading any further. The guys stowed the gear, giving each other back slaps, and grinning wide enthusiastic grins. John looked over them, proud of what they’d become, “You’re all real goddam fire fighters now,” he praised them. “Now let’s get this truck back to the station so we can get into town to celebrate.  
  
The guys cheered as they clambered into the truck, John along with them. They got back to the station to find the next shift starting. They stowed the gear while John filled out the paperwork. Then they headed into town, still in their bright yellow gear, black streaks across their faces caused by the smoke.  
  
They all got a round of drinks in while the town folk got a blow by blow account of the fire from the guys. Stackhouse raised his bottle, “To all us real goddam fire fighters.” The rest of the guys and the town folk cheered as they raised their glasses to join in his toast.  
  
“Thanks to our outstanding Chief,” one of them said, John didn’t see who. The crew all stood to attention and raised their glasses to him. He nodded in acquiescence.  
  
“You’re head and shoulders above the rest, Sir,” Deeb’s said, with a twinkle in his eye.  
  
There was a heavy silence but John was past all that now. He’d lost Rodney because of his own prejudice’s, prejudices he was only just realising were his and his alone. These people had accepted him long ago, but he hadn’t let himself see that until now. He raised his glass in the air towards Deebs, “Nice of you to say so, Deebs,” he said with a smile as he raised his glass to make his own toast, “I’d rather be with you people, than the finest people in the world.”  
  
There was a cheer that slowly dissipated as they realised what he said. Andy murmured, “Hey, that’s not nice,” even as Stackhouse was saying, “Ditto, Chief.”  
  
John laughed along with them. He stayed until everyone became distracted, leaving at the earliest possible moment because now the emergency was over, all he could think about was how Rodney had never opened that door.  
  
He walked home in the cool of the night, watching the stars above him, only now realising how Rodney had touched every part of his life in the short time he’d been here, even the night sky above. He saw him in everything he walked by and each time was a like a knife to the heart.  
  
He knew he wouldn’t sleep, and he didn’t trust what he’d do if he started drinking and lost any sense of control. He got a vision of himself outside Rodney’s house, begging him to love him. He climbed through his house instead, out of the attic window and sat on the roof, overlooking his town as thoughts chased each other around his head. He’d been stupid, and yet...yet he couldn’t regret the things he’d said, the chance to tell Rodney. At least he’d tried this time and it was different to the cold and bitter regret he normally felt when he watched the world pass him by. He’d lost Rodney though, and he’d regret that for the rest of his days. He hung his head, desolation flooding through him again. Up here all alone with nothing but the stars to see him, he let the first tear fall down his cheek.  
  
A voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts, a voice he recognised as much a part of himself as the beating of his own heart. He surreptitiously wiped the tear away, swallowing down everything else before he looked down to see Rodney standing in his front yard, calling up to him, “When I close my eyes I see you again and again. I realise now that you were all I ever saw. When I was with Cameron I was always looking for something more, I thought it was a hidden part of him. Now I realise it was your mind I was looking for, you’re mind that I fell in love with. It wasn’t him that made me feel romantic, intelligent, challenged and adored, that was you, your words. I heard you on the porch and I wanted so much to believe, but you’d fooled me once. I need to be sure,” Rodney took a step forward. “Well, now I am sure. So here I am,” Rodney held out his hands in supplication, “asking if you’ll love me the way you said you would, John. Will you love me?”  
  
“Are you kidding?” John said, scowling down at Rodney.  
  
Rodney just nodded. The light spilling from John’s house showed the desolation on his face as he swallowed quickly. He turned to walk away.  
  
“No, wait!” John shouted as he clambered down the outside of his house, using window ledges, guttering and the eaves.  
  
“Okay, you have to stop doing that,” Rodney said as soon as he landed on the floor. “You scare the hell out of me every time you do that.”  
  
John just smiled at him and strolled over to him until he stood in front of him, studying his face. “You’re serious. This isn’t some kind of...I don’t know... payback?” John asked.  
  
“I would never be that cruel,” Rodney bit out, before he took a deep breath. “No, John. I am serious.”  
  
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Rodney,” John said softly as he placed a hand against his throat, thumb rubbing the soft skin behind his ear.  
  
“I’m sorry I didn’t see you, John,” Rodney said as he placed a hand against John’s throat, his palm against the scarred skin.  
  
John flinched in spite of himself, he took a life changing breath before he looked at Rodney, fighting the instinct to move away from the touch. “The answer is yes, I will love you without limits. I never stopped from the moment I met you, and I never will. To love you is to breath.”  
  
Rodney smiled. “By the way, I named the comet.”  
  
“Meredith?” John asked distractedly as he watched his thumb pass over Rodney’s skin, felt the pale smoothness of it under his fingers, the softness of his hair curled against his fingertips.  
  
“No, Comet John....It’s my dad’s name,” Rodney added with an unrepentant grin.  
  
“Oh is that so,” John said, jovially. “Funny, you never mentioned it before.”  
  
Rodney smiled, his eyes lighting up, “Besides I like the idea that it will travel the universe, my comet and your name, together seeing things we can only dream of. While we are here, drinking from the river,” Rodney said, repeating John’s words back to him.  
  
“I’m pretty sure that’s plagiarism,” John said with a smile.  
  
“Oh,” Rodney answered in all innocence. “Does that mean I have to pay a penance?”  
  
“You just have to love me,” John said sincerely.  
  
“That’s not a penance, that’s a way of life,” Rodney answered, as he looked intently into John’s eyes.  
  
John leant forward, brushing his lips against Rodney’s as they stood under the stars. He hadn’t believed love stories were for him, but here he was with Rodney’s lips touching his. Only because he’d learnt just in time that in order to be loved, you have to put your heart on the line and be willing to lose it all. John had opened his heart to Rodney and he’d answered in like. He pulled back from Rodney and looked into his face to see a beaming smile, “like the sun breaking through the clouds,” John murmured as he answered him in kind, leaning in for a deeper kiss.  
  
When he pulled back, he only pulled back half way and then leant in again to whisper in Rodney’s ear, “So I hear you give it up on first dates,” John said softly.  
  
The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matter of No Matter: The galaxy that is featured in the background of the banner is from NASA, and is in fact two galaxies on a collision course......quite apt I thought **grin** 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. Please take the time to let me know your thoughts, both good and bad.


End file.
